My mother. Where do I start? First off, I guess, I almost never call her "Mother." If/when I ever do/have, it's been out of pure frustration. Hands up...get honest. Those of us who have been so blessed to be maternal units, ourselves, understand just how aggravating we can be to the offspring. It's our right and frankly, our responsibility. AND, if we were to get truly transparent, some of us might even admit that sometimes it brings us a sense of twisted satisfaction to aggravate them. Can I get a witness? Back to my mother...Mama.
I'm coming on forty-two years on Planet Earth and there is no other person who has the same kind of pull on my heart like she does. There are still days when I feel so small...so little...so unsure of myself. All I want to do is to be able lay my head in her lap, like I did in days gone by, and let her stroke my head. There are days when the sound of her voice makes me feel like I'm sixteen...thinking I know better than she does and am almost willing to die trying to prove her wrong. I have stopped myself, mid-conversation, because what has just flown from my lips is EXACTLY the tone and choice of words that she would use and it scares me. There are days when the 17+ hours that separates us, is a good thing. There are other days when that distance may as well be from here to Timbuktu...can't get to her fast enough, often enough, exactly when I want to, when she wants me to; when I need her, when she needs me.
We had one of those moments just so very recently and I'll be flat honest with you, I didn't handle it very well. Or maybe I did...maybe I handled it as well as I could, for who I am. Went to bed in tears...both cell phone and land line on my bedside table. Woke in tears...spent most of the next day in and out of tears. Stayed in my jammies...one phone in each hand, piled up on the couch, marathon episodes of a certain fashion model themed "reality" show playing on the TV. Didn't brush my teeth until about 3:30 that afternoon because it wasn't until then that I felt like I could breathe. I need to apologize to the folks who had the misfortune of speaking with me on the phone that day...well, they spoke. they prayed...I cried. Then there are the folks who saw me at choir practice that night. I should have had the good manners to keep my pitiful behind at the house. Forgive me for exposing you to such a sad sight! I promise to be more considerate in the future!
The good news is that Mama's going to be just fine...she is fine. Still have a couple of unanswered questions, but that's why the fancy shmancy specialists went to school for their fancy shmancy degrees! In the scheme of things, what we are looking at is far and away simpler than what some people are facing with their parents...or with themselves. The unpleasant news is that I've had an up close and personal encounter with the truth: my mama isn't going to live forever. I know that...but it's not something I think about. I know that one day, my kids will have to face the same thing with me...but I don't think about it. I know there is the possibility that Mr. Snark may receive his Heavenly Promotion before I do...but I don't think about it. I know she won't live forever, but dealing with the fact that there will come a day when she's not here...wow! Hard to wrap my head around that.
No sense in borrowing trouble from tomorrow by dwelling on the fact that she won't always be around. Instead I'll just be glad for each day that she's still bound to God's green earth. Suddenly, the daily drive by phone calls seem a little more precious!
I'm coming on forty-two years on Planet Earth and there is no other person who has the same kind of pull on my heart like she does. There are still days when I feel so small...so little...so unsure of myself. All I want to do is to be able lay my head in her lap, like I did in days gone by, and let her stroke my head. There are days when the sound of her voice makes me feel like I'm sixteen...thinking I know better than she does and am almost willing to die trying to prove her wrong. I have stopped myself, mid-conversation, because what has just flown from my lips is EXACTLY the tone and choice of words that she would use and it scares me. There are days when the 17+ hours that separates us, is a good thing. There are other days when that distance may as well be from here to Timbuktu...can't get to her fast enough, often enough, exactly when I want to, when she wants me to; when I need her, when she needs me.
We had one of those moments just so very recently and I'll be flat honest with you, I didn't handle it very well. Or maybe I did...maybe I handled it as well as I could, for who I am. Went to bed in tears...both cell phone and land line on my bedside table. Woke in tears...spent most of the next day in and out of tears. Stayed in my jammies...one phone in each hand, piled up on the couch, marathon episodes of a certain fashion model themed "reality" show playing on the TV. Didn't brush my teeth until about 3:30 that afternoon because it wasn't until then that I felt like I could breathe. I need to apologize to the folks who had the misfortune of speaking with me on the phone that day...well, they spoke. they prayed...I cried. Then there are the folks who saw me at choir practice that night. I should have had the good manners to keep my pitiful behind at the house. Forgive me for exposing you to such a sad sight! I promise to be more considerate in the future!
The good news is that Mama's going to be just fine...she is fine. Still have a couple of unanswered questions, but that's why the fancy shmancy specialists went to school for their fancy shmancy degrees! In the scheme of things, what we are looking at is far and away simpler than what some people are facing with their parents...or with themselves. The unpleasant news is that I've had an up close and personal encounter with the truth: my mama isn't going to live forever. I know that...but it's not something I think about. I know that one day, my kids will have to face the same thing with me...but I don't think about it. I know there is the possibility that Mr. Snark may receive his Heavenly Promotion before I do...but I don't think about it. I know she won't live forever, but dealing with the fact that there will come a day when she's not here...wow! Hard to wrap my head around that.
No sense in borrowing trouble from tomorrow by dwelling on the fact that she won't always be around. Instead I'll just be glad for each day that she's still bound to God's green earth. Suddenly, the daily drive by phone calls seem a little more precious!
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