The chains that bind us...
Perspective came back as a slap in the face tonight with surprising agility and force in the form of two very depressing, but very different phone calls. The first was with mom, whom I had called because I was worried that she hadn't been feeling well again; I didn't want her to do her evening laps in the pool alone. Her initial response was very uncharacteristically bitter, in that she said: "well, at least someone cares". She and Bella have been brewing this little cauldron of resentment over the past few months because unlike me, and in addition to financial considerations, Bella decided to commute to college. Being the independent spirit that I never was and am only aspiring learn to be, I think she feels shackled, chained to the stronghold of home. She's struggling, with utmost will and resilience to break away. What I don't think she realizes is that we'll both always, always keep those chains bound to us tightly; the restraints that keep us in, they also keep us safe from harm's way. Two hundred and eighty-six point six miles away from this center, I've learned to embrace these ties, and know that where ever I may choose to situate myself, no matter how displaced I may feel initially, that warm glow in the hazy morning coming from our porch light will always be there for me, even hypothetically.
But how do you explain that to an 18 year old who only sees the black and white print and not the integral grey smudges that make up the entire picture? She only understands that mom is "babying" her and won't let her make her own choices and live her own life. But what she doesn't see are the almost exasperating conversations I have with mom to try to help her understand her own daughter and the life-changing transition that she's experiencing as a college freshman. Then, on the ever flippant other side, I think that her role as a mother has overshadowed her ability to remember what it is like to be an "almost adult"; someone who is rash but responsible, headstrong but lenient, willfull and arrogant but also compassionate-- ready to take on the world in a moment's notice. She and Bella are so amazingly alike, it's like opening up a time capsule whenever I speak to the both of them. They'll see this someday and learn to love the fault in eachother because they are mirrored in themselves. I wish they could see it now. I think that inside the framework of this grey-smudged picture lies an even smaller, essential portrait. It's a portrait of our family, the love that we have for one another: the kind of love that causes infuriating arguments and sheer frustration and anger. God I love family-- headaches, hours of lost sleep, multiple episodes of hysterical tears and all.
posted by Sheila @ 9/14/2004 08:56:00 PM
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