𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎-𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐.

what’s your passion?

i grew up listening to my kids’ music.

cameron was convinced kanye was a genius. i wasn’t. gigi found my objections hilarious because, once again, i’d completely missed the point. kiva was kinder. she seemed quietly confident that i’d get there eventually. apparently i wasn’t a complete lost cause after all. i spent years believing i was the adult in those conversations, the one bringing judgement, experience and discernment to the table. it never occurred to me that i wasn’t teaching them anything. i was the one being educated. every argument over whose music deserved the bluetooth connection was another lesson that i stubbornly refused to recognise until years later.

inheritance is supposed to travel downhill. parents pass things to children. money if they’re fortunate, values if they’re thoughtful, bad habits whether they mean to or not. but somewhere in those endless debates, the trade quietly reversed direction. my kids didn’t simply broaden my taste in music. they rewired the inside of my head. i thought they were asking me to listen to different songs. what they were really asking me to do was become a different listener.