I will never forget it. I was a young mother of three, running on fumes, with my young son having a serious problem in the Aldi car park. They want the Aldi “Lucky Charms” brand that I carry-right therein the parking lot. Not at home. Not to take to school. Now.
He went powerless on me as I tried to force him into his car seat, while I silently panicked about being late picking up my other two children. In the midst of the commotion, an old woman nearby shouted. “It’s okay, honey. You’ll miss this one day.”
I forced a smile and got into the car, my son still crying in the back seat. And at that moment, another thought crossed my mind:
“You missed this? You think I’m going to miss THIS?”
I know he meant well. Perhaps she was a mother too—a person who raised her children, watched them grow up, and now remembers all this with a slight pain in her chest. But at that time, his voice sounded like a punch. Not because he wanted to hurt me, but because those words ended my feelings at the time: tiredness, despair, and frustration.
The woman in the parking lot forgot something very important.he forgot to remember.
Not the display mode. Not filtered memories. But a all picture.
Yes, he must have missed the baby’s laughter and sleep. But did he miss the confusion of people? Chronic fatigue? Feeling that stretch hurt? At that time, he left no room to do anything.
There is nothing wrong with nostalgia. There is nothing wrong with keeping the positive aspects. But when we use visual thinking to respond to a woman in trouble, we miss the opportunity to see her. And women should be seen.
What I needed that day was not the truth. I didn’t want to talk about the future.
I needed a form of contract.
A “You are doing well.”
A “Wow, I remember those days.”
Or simply: “Stay in it. But it gets easier.”
Because the truth is, I won’t miss it all. I won’t miss the anger of the parking lot, or the sleep, or the constant noise, and that’s okay. The important thing is that I lived. I picked it up. And I finished. And every woman in that era needs to have the space to feel good—without being told to move forward until the day ends and she can look back with rose-colored glasses.
So maybe instead of saying, “You’ll miss this one day,” we begin by saying: “I see, this is hard. You’re doing an amazing job.” Because it’s the memory that helps.