Home / Life / Motherly Stories Childhood is making magic out of everyday rituals Dear mama, my childhood was a beautiful one and I know you gave me so much of what you had not. By Ashley Elizabeth February 10, 2024 Yuri A/Shutterstock I remember snapshots of my colorful childhood. There were scraped knees from cul-de-sac rollerblading adventures, bruised feelings from mean girls on the softball team and family charades and sister performances where you applauded like you had witnessed Broadway. It was a beautiful one and I know you gave me so much of what you had not. Related: The things my parents saved in the attic I remember the “swing low” lullabies before bed, the attentive eyes on my face and even a moment of me being goofy with you through the window as you scrubbed dishes in the sink. That face reflected: “I see you and I delight in who you are.” That look filled my soul and prompted my self-assured nature time and time again. This morning as I wrapped my firstborn daughter’s head in a towel after a shower, another snapshot came screeching back into view, like a runaway car—hot and urgent—that I wouldn’t forget. I remember watching you, with my young-girl eyes, wear that towel and think, “How does she do that?” It might be silly, but I did. It seemed one of hundreds of plain things you would craft by your hands into something extraordinary. I could never figure it out for my own head until my hands grew long with adolescence. But by then, I was too cool to credit you for why I no longer had the discomfort of dripping hair after a shower. So this morning when my own daughter asked, “Will you wrap my head in a towel like you do yours?” I stopped for a minute and felt the memory of you wrapping my hair. It felt like just yesterday, and yet here I was, swaddling the long locks of a five-year-old daughter I carried, birthed and am now in the throes of raising and cherishing. Related: Recreating childhood memories is good for your entire family—just ask Kristen Bell My mother, who accomplished far more than a towel twist on any given morning, wove for me threads of grace, love and fortitude that I now carry and bestow upon my own child. I love you, mom. This story is a part of The Motherly Collective contributor network where we showcase the stories, experiences and advice from brands, writers and experts who want to share their perspective with our community. We believe that there is no single story of motherhood, and that every mother's journey is unique. By amplifying each mother's experience and offering expert-driven content, we can support, inform and inspire each other on this incredible journey. If you're interested in contributing to The Motherly Collective please click here.