Violetta is teething. I watch her exploring her mouth with her fingers, frowning and sometimes crying out to us about this strange thing that is happening inside her.
That first hot flush of sensation, the slow ache. The feeling of something just about to surface. That thing on the tip of our tongue that we can’t quite touch.
We don’t remember what cutting our first teeth actually felt like and yet we use the metaphor all the time to describe the experience of just starting out with something.
Perhaps somewhere deep inside us, there’s a part of us that does remember the hard work of growing our bodies, of becoming more and more of our own unique selves?
I’m watching Violetta and I’m asking myself: What is it that wants to surface in me right now? What’s trying to emerge?