How I met my sidekick

My daughter, who is now 17, approached me one rainy weekend about a decade ago, brows furrowed, mouth tight.  I recognized her I'm-about-to-launch-into-a-serious-speech look because it's exactly how I look when I'm thinking so intently that I lose track of everything, except my very important thoughts, which must be voiced immediately, lest I explode. 

"Mom," she boldly proclaimed brown eyes wide, "I think I'm a sidekick." 

"Unh-hunh," I absently answered. 

"You're not listening.  I just told you I'm a sidekick," her voice rising just a notch.

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"You know, I'm a siiiiiiiiidekick," she persisted. 

"Okay, you're a sidekick," I responded, not at all sure of what she was telling me. 

She sensed my confusion, planted her feet firmly, hands on hips and said, "Siiiiiiiidekick, mom!  You know, when you know what other people are thinking."

 And then her intention dawned on me, "Ohhhhhhh, you mean psychic! Is that what you mean?" 

"Yes," she said, with the accompanying eye roll that I would come to know and love in the teen years. "Psychic." 

"What makes you think you are psychic?"  I asked. 

"Well, I don't really know, it's just a feeling, like I know what people are going to say or do before they say or do it.  Do you know what I mean?"  she asked, leaning in and looking concerned.

"I know exactly what you mean.  I think we all have the ability to sense what is going on with others.  We don't all pay attention to it as well as you do, though," I told her. 

She didn't skip a beat. "Well, it can be our secret.  Don't tell daddy.  I know he would think it's silly." 

I believe we all have a little sidekick.  Not groovy, mystical, mysterious psychic (the word conjures up  negative connotations for some), but that part of us that observes, quietly and diligently and comes to spot-on conclusions derived from all the senses.  We can all do it.  We simply forget how to. 

Most of us lose touch with it as we age.  Our culture does not reward quiet observation.  Our culture rewards extroversion and speed.  And who has time to sit still with their sidekick while working full time, raising a family, paying bills, developing a career and driving to playdates? 

I remember as a child, frequently knowing when a baby was going to cry, the next words the teacher was going to say, sensing others' moods accurately without any words ever being uttered.  I cannot tell you how I figured this stuff out.  I have done it as an adult too, but often minimized or dismissed it.  I cannot predict the future or read minds, I simply observe my physical world through every sense.  And occasionally I am unable to observe accurately if my monkey mind gets too active.  This made me quite anxious in my younger years.  If I had a dime for everytime my parents or teachers called me oversensitive (as if being sensitive was a disability), I would be able to retire now. 

I didn't nuture my sidekick for a long time. She's always been there, afraid to let herself be known for fear of being deemed weird.  But I'm coming up on 50 in the next year and I don't care much about weird anymore.  I care about real. I care about speaking up and being known.  I care about being recognized as a master of personal essay.  And I care about protecting my sidekick from  people who suck the wind out of my sails.  

I've made peace with my sidekick.  She is quirky, often waking up in the wee hours in a cold sweat panicked because she "just knows" something is not right.  But she is also wise and funny and she never steers me wrong.  And she's no longer embarrassed to be part of my life. 

I've met my sidekick and she is welcome to stay. 

Where is your sidekick?  

Comments

[Mark]

"Everytime" is one word now? (Paragraph 17.)

[Ann]

Believe it or not, I occasionally make errors.