it never occurred to me that my decisions that have been different to hers were perceived as a direct insult. i can't even fathom how she came to that conclusion. it's not that those choices aren't good enough for me, it's just that i'm different. i'm sad that she misunderstood me, but sometimes an apology just makes things worse. they can be more hurtful. i don't know how to mend the damage.
my mom, on the other hand, is more like me than she realized. we are in fact cut from the same cloth. we are souvenirs of the same experiences in a different order. i slipped and fell on the ice in front of her house. my laundry basket fell from my arms and my balled-up sox rolled all over the road. from her front window she watched me fall, and came out to help me. i skinned my knee. i scraped my hand. my mom helped put me back on my feet again in more ways than one.
whatever differences our lives have been
we together make a limb.
2 comments:
There is a universal warm human response to the thought of a parent helping their child clean up the mess after a fall - no matter how old that child might be. The image of the skinned knee only encourages the feelings. It just seems right.
that's a nice thought :)
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