It’s a rainy, dreary afternoon. I’m sitting here playing Solitaire on my iPad which is something I usually feel guilty for doing, but that’s for another post at another time. I play Solitaire often. It’s the kind of game that allows me to play semi-mindlessly.
As I was playing, I noticed that every time I reveal an ace I get excited. I get a little thrill. While playing Solitaire I use the time to contemplate things. I began to wonder why I get that little thrill. What was the origin of that emotion.
When I was a kid I was a real loner. Actually, I still am. One of the things that stands out in my childhood is that I played
lots of Solitaire. My mom taught me many types of solitaire games. I had a sense of pride knowing that I knew so many different games. Being a shy, reclusive child, it was a rare thing for me to feel proud of myself about anything.
I remember one time we went to the beach for our annual weeklong vacation. My parents would get together to play games with their friends who were also vacationing at the beach. All of my parents friends’ children were older than I was, so I would generally be by myself. I was probably eight or nine years old. While they all went off to hang out, I would hunt for a deck of cards and proceed to play Solitaire for hours. In one particular session, I recall my mom walking by and commenting about my card playing. It was not in my mom’s nature to dish out compliments, but she said something to the effect of being impressed with my ability to play cards at my age. That moment has been frozen in my mind for 60 years. And, honestly, I’ve always wondered why every time I play cards, I recall that scene. I can remember the room, the table I was playing on, the relatively dim lighting in the room, but I don’t recall as much of what she actually said as much as I do the feeling I felt. The feeling of being recognized and seen. Complemented about my ability to play at my age. It’s obvious that moment really touched me deeply.
So, my conclusion is that my love for Solitaire stems from the attention my mom gave me because of it. She taught me several Solitaire games, but more importantly, she acknowledged my ability to play. This made a lasting impression on me because most of the time I felt invisible in my family. I wasn’t mistreated. I had everything I ever needed. But that seems to be about all there was. There weren’t many hugs or much recognition.
This memory causes me to think about parenting and how much of the time we as parents just say things “off the cuff” without realizing the impression it could be making on our children. The comments that you think nothing of may be one of the most impactful things your child hears or feels from you. Sometimes it’s merely our tone of voice, which speaks volumes more than the words we utter.
My adult children have mentioned things I said that meant so much to them, that I don’t even remember saying. Sadly, I can only imagine how many things I said casually that hurt them.
Words carry weight. Use them with care.
Judy Kaplan Art & Musings 