What Would Your Mother Say?
Which mother? The one of my childhood, conservative, judgemental, and with a clear sense of how the world works? Or the one I am still becoming acquainted with now, who sees the subtle shades of grey, who perceives the nuances in tone at the age of 80?
Which mother? The one who was concerned in infinitesimal detail about what clothes I wore, the length of my hair, and whether I had visited enough aunties and uncles at the weekend? Or the one who now is quietly pleased if I remember to call any of the uncles and aunties when I’m in town?
I look at the life I’m living now, on the other side of the world from my mother, and wonder often what each mother would say. She who left her own mother to travel thousands of miles with her husband. She who raised her own family in so many different countries, no assistance, little support. She who is learning to live for, and with herself. She who is becoming comfortable in her own skin, and finding her own voice.
What would the harried, mother of my youth, the sometimes-harridan of my teens say about the life I live now? The mother I now Skype with in her daytime-nighttime and my nighttime-daytime is a different person. Unrecognisable to her younger self, I’m certain. Unrecognisable to many of her friends.
The lone survivor of her family, the lone survivor of her marriage, she has endured through trials. She sees the world differently now, and the world sees her differently. No longer do the judgements of society weigh upon her shoulders, hunching them in submission. Her new-found deafness has enabled her to tune out the shrill caws of stereotypes, and this-is-how-you-shoulds.
She makes her own rules now. Travels through unfamiliar lands on her own terms. She wears a new courage, still sporting the price-tag, stiff and not quite worn-in. It suits her though. Cut to fit just right.
What would the mother of my youth say? She would be unforgiving and unrelenting. She would be stop-complaining-I-did-what-you’re-doing-and-more-with-no-support-from-family-or-husband. Her you-don’t-realise-how-lucky-you-are-how-good-you’ve-got-it would ring out like a clarion call to my inadequacies.
What would the mother of my now say? She is worried and caring. She feels the tug on her heart and the emptiness of distance. She measures the loneliness of days through the number of classes she does at the community centre. She waits patiently-impatiently by the computer for a Skype call. Her face lights up when internet goblins deign to establish a tenuous connection. She lets loose fragments of the girl she was, a look, an excited shuffle, and I glimpse the mother I have never known, the one who was before she was a mother.
Beautifully written and all to recognisable. Especially liked the last line. How hard it seems to be for mothers to behave with their own children as they would with others.
Thank you so much for your kind comments. It does seem harder to be that part of ourselves with our children doesn’t it?
ah, beautiful! I loved this so: ” She wears a new courage, still sporting the price-tag, stiff and not quite worn-in. It suits her though. Cut to fit just right.”
Thank you Lisa! I can’t tell you how much that means to me.
This is all kinds of wonderful. Thank you.
Thank you so much!
This was beautiful, especially the glimpse of your mother before she was a mother. That is the hardest part to see, and the hardest part to show.
You’re so right about it being the hardest part to show too. Why don’t we show that part of ourselves to our kids? What is it we’re afraid of?
Age has a way of morphing one’s perspective on life. As you get older the filters become more proficient at sifting out what is most important. Great read.
You’re quite right about filters improving with age… which applies equally to me as it does to my mother. It’s nice to be able to view her with greater kindness and understanding as an adult.
I love following the evolution of your mother. Or maybe, too, it’s the evolution of your perceptions of your mother.
Oh I’m so pleased you saw that it was equally my evolution! Time and age give me a new appreciation of my mother.
I understand that. And welcome to yeah write!
Lovely. A beautiful glimpse into the complexity of our relationships with our mothers and how they change with time and life lived.
Thank you 🙂
This is a really wonderful look at your mother and motherhood itself. Well done.
“She waits patiently-impatiently by the computer for a Skype call.” has the most telling and efficient use of a hyphen I have ever encountered.
Hah! Thank you.
This is beautifully written – love your use of words and the theme itself.
Thank you so much.