My Little Girl Got Calluses

It has been a nightly ritual to put the children to bed after finishing our evening prayer at Kyla's room. They also know Mommy will be working next door. Kyla requests that I visit her in between while I work. I also visit Kevin too, to check if he is finally asleep. He has a habit of staying awake for as long as someone is still up.

I just came from Kyla's room a few minutes ago. I reached for her hand and started lightly touching her palm. I noticed that the calluses in her palms grew bigger and rougher by now. She got these calluses after hours of playing at the monkey bars. She even proudly demonstrated to me once how agile and strong she has become, crossing the entire length of monkey bars with such ease and speed.


Kyla crossing the monkey bars while Kevin is perched on his favorite corner.

 Being a non-athletic person myself, I can only marvel at how nimble she was! I can't remember being able to do this when I was her age. She is eight and she got these very rough calluses. I have none.

Clearly, she enjoys conquering the monkey bars despite her dad forbidding her to play further when he noticed the onset of blisters that eventually became a wide, rough patch of toughened skin. I don't think we can stop her. It looked only like monkey bars to us. To her, it probably meant something more than that.

I snapped this photo of her that day, crossing the monkey bars. I smiled and eventually laughed out loud. She is good at it. She smiled back at me proundly when she reached the other end, and I thought, "there must be a feeling of freedom, being able to conquer these bars, against time, against every ounce of strength."

I remember that day while I was touching her hand and feeling the roughened skin of her palms. Clearly not a young lady's hand. Perhaps it will never be. I can see it now, my little girl is not meant to be the dainty lady. It wasn't just blisters I saw or felt. I remember the fears she has conquered. The depth of her love and understanding for her brother.

And in that moment, her little hand in mine, I felt a sense of portents being passed on to her.

One of these days, I'll let her examine her palms, feel the calluses.

And I'll tell her what it meant. And she has every reason to be proud.

And it's not about just the monkey bars.