I am feeling edgy lately...
It's because I have started thinking again.
I stopped for a while.
For a long time I simply couldn't let thoughts or emotions through because I knew It would derail me.
They would bubble up, but then I would tamp them down...anything that was too strong I simply dug up and dealt with, then buried.
But in the spirit of Robin...who gave me a shout out in her blog that was awesome....I thought I would get all time travel y and a bit melancholy and a lot thoughtful.
There are moments that, when you are in them, you know the memory will never leave you.
They don't even have to be expensive....sometimes the moment is so full of everything that came before and all that has been or ever will be, that there is nothing left to do but stand in it.
When I took my last trip home to see my family, it put to rest a lot of things that, although I had dealt with, I hadn't faced in the real sense.
It's one thing to deal with your past when you are 1200 miles away.
Quite another to go back to the scene of the crime and test your new mentality against prevailing attitudes and old view points.
It was over all a grand success...
So, It was the final night there..and I hadn't really had much time to spend with my mom.
She hadn't worked or anything...I can't explain really.
My mom and I are different people.
But in one or two ways we are very much the same.
The way we are the same is that we don't feel lonely.
I could be alone for days or weeks and not feel 'alone'.
I can be in a crowded room full of people and feel lonely.
I have never been afraid to be in my own head.
I have worked long and hard on tending a clear conscience .
I think the people who can't be alone are afraid of their thoughts...
I realized something on my last trip home.
The reason my mom and I have never had much in common is because she carries a lot of insecurity.
There were things that happened that caused this...but I finally realized why she refuses to talk about some things and why she doesn't want me to talk about things.
She just wants to forget.
She wants to live in the now.
So, we are standing out on the front porch...looking up at the stars.
my mom smoking her cigarette, her long, long hair in a wet pony tail from her shower.
And I remembered.
I remembered the bad times...the screaming and the way she would distract Duane so he would stop hitting us.
I remembered her taking all the fabric remnants from what people gave her, and her making my school clothes in fourth and fifth grade....because that was all she had for me.
And feeling both proud and humiliated when I was mocked in gym class for my clothes.
I remembered how my mom would get up and go to work after dropping us off at whatever babysitter she could find...so she could make money to support us because she refused to take food stamps and Not work.
It nearly killed her to use them.
And that next Christmas after she left the abuser and she made us quilts out of his old clothes, she also signed us up for the christmas tree gift program.
Knowing how proud she was...that must havejust about killed her as well.
Especially when they showed up at our trailer door in their lincoln town car, beautiful wool coats and food basket.
I remember opening the gifts while they were there, but acting like I didn't care that I got a malibu barbie. Because my mom was standing there. I acted all cold while saying thank you.
I didn't want her to think I liked that gift better than I liked hers.
But then I went into the bedroom and got on the bed and combed her hair and touched her dress and thought "now I can show my friends I have one too."
I remembered the night after night after night of goulash..
mushy pasta, kidney beans, tomato sauce and onions and hamburger.
by the third night all the beef had been picked out and all that was left was the mushy macaroni and onions.
and tomato chunks.
And no, we didn't complain.....because it beats onion sandwiches.
I remembered our talks about sex.
They started early, and often and they worked.
I do the same.
I remember just how explicit she was, because she got pregnant as a teenager....she was never much for hugging or talking emotionally.
She never gave advice.
She did give us the space to make our own mistakes and to be our own people.
She also drilled into us that you judge each person as they come...not on how they look or the clothes they wear.
She never complained to us.
She never blamed others for her problems.
And she never quit.
So I stood there staring at her...and there was so much to say...
And I couldn't say anything.
I was going to cry...
She said...I could see you needed to come and talk..
When I should have said all the above.
I just said
"I love you."
and she looked and said
"I love you too".