When I was a little girl living in Beeville, Texas I loved to sing. I still do. I would sit in the garage with my record player and sing Jackson 5 songs over and over. I would be holding a pretend microphone and I would sing as if I was on stage performing with Michael Jackson. He was going to be my husband one day and we were going to live happily ever after. Ha!
When I walk out of my room and down the stairs I hear my daughter in her room, door closed, singing. She has a unique sound to her voice that if she ever were to get the singing bug, would make her sound – a different one. Instead of singing with a record player or a cd player she is singing with the laptop. Times have changed and yet so many things remain the same. She is not yet love sick over any particular singer, she just likes music and she likes to sing. She reminds me of me and there are times when she acts just like me. When she has crying jags, I understand. I still, at 51 going on 52, have crying jags. I will cry while I am driving for no reason. I find myself with a flood of tears in one instant and in the next I am chastising myself for being a baby. One day I know she will experience the same thing and when she reads my words she will know that we are still just alike.
I called my mother to ask her how she dealt with the pain of being married to a man who didn’t live with her. She said she prayed. I rephrased the question asking her about the pain that she had to endure being left alone to raise 4 children. She said she tried not to think about it. I clarified that what I was asking her was how she endured the pain and how was she able to move through those years and raise us alone. She said she prayed. I wanted a different answer. I wanted her to tell me that she cried and she moaned and that she wished things were different. I wanted her to be angry and to be ugly towards my father. She was not. I wanted her to react in a way that I thought that she should act and she did not. She prayed. Then she said one thing she did not do was jump from bed to bed. Uh oh…… My hackles immediately shot up! What is a hackle anyway? I said that I did not jump from bed to bed. I defended myself saying that I have only had 3 real relationships since my divorce in 2003 and I added that I thought these relationships were going to lead to marriage. I told her that I am not like her and that I want to be in relationship and believe that I can.
She said that she knows I am a good mother. I know I am too. My mother is not expressive in her feelings. I am. My mother is not outgoing; I am. My mother and I have a lot of things that are not in common. She loves to get outside and enjoy her garden and the smell of fresh cut grass, I do too. She reads daily. I do too. She is a devoted mother with a heart of gold. I am also. She is a mother with a sharp tongue and a quick response. I can be. She loves music. I do too. She is opinionated and she speaks her mind. I am and I do. The apple really doesn’t fall that far from the tree. Not far at all.