In the last month I caught-up with a friend.

She’s around my age, done well work-wise and is sitting pretty, financially.

But despite that, her biggest concern at the moment is with one of her adult sons.

Apparently, he’s gone down a bad path and is trying to work it out, but I could see the lines of worry in my friend’s face.

We discussed it and there’s really not much she can do except just be there for him, as only he can really resolve his own issue.

She’s also aware of the issues I have with my own daughter … mainly being estranged.

I seem to spend days where I want to see my daughter and rebuild the relationship with her, just as I’m rebuilding other aspects of my life.

And then there are days where I ask myself why I bother, as it seems like I’m the only one making any effort.

Hence, the saying that having kids is wanting to hug and strangle them at the same time. 🙄

But the most infuriating thing about my daughter is that she’s just like me.

Obstinate … stubborn … and pig-headed!

The only way I can keep in touch with her is by writing her letters.

I have no way of knowing if she’s getting them or reading them.

But in a strange way, I find it cathartic to write to her as it forces me to think about what I want to write about. Obviously, I can’t write about her as it’s been years since I’ve seen her.

So I write to her about other things:

🔑 About her grandfather who died before she was born

🔑 About when I first met her mother

🔑 About my life to date, from when I was born to now

Hopefully, she is reading these and getting something out of them.

And, hopefully, one day she’ll say that to me.