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Wednesday, April 1, 2009


"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think that whatever else you do matters very much." 
~Jackie Kennedy

My mom means the world to me and we know each other inside and out.  Mostly because I am a replica of her.  Her twin, born 39 years later...  We get each other, really get each other.  I didn't discover this until I was an adult but we think the same.  We analyze things the same.  I know how I am going to turn out by knowing my mother.  And you know?  The future ain't half bad.

The way we can make each other laugh over the inconsequential things causing my father to shake his head in confusion are the best of times.  

The worst of times is when we are angry with each other.  Trust me, it doesn't last long.  The only way I know to torture Joyce is to not call her for several days.  However, I am torturing myself at the same time.  Yesterday, in fact, we had words and I was determined not to call for a couple days but this morning I just couldn't help but call and talk to her.  I think it was obvious she was happy to be back on track with me too.

I believe that my dad and I have a good relationship because he relates to me.  He sees his wife in me.  He sees the teenager he fell in love with.  The woman he dreamt about when he was overseas.  The woman he mailed a diamond ring to from San Francisco.  The woman he came back to marry and raise his kids with.  The woman he is growing old with and loving his grandchildren with.  Yeah, I love my dad too.

I don't remember the last time the word "love" was used between Joyce and I.  Probably I was a little child drawing pictures for her.  But even though it is not said it is felt and shown.  Sometimes I think it is shown in the best way possible.  What use is the word if there is nothing to back it up?  I've seen plenty of friends told "I love you" by their mothers and I am appalled and want to say, "You do?  You certainly don't act like it."  My mother pretends to be selfish but I have always known she puts things aside that she would rather do to do things for me.  

People are shocked that I call her by her first name.  But goodness the woman doesn't answer to "Mom!"  Believe me, I've tried.  She won't turn her head if you are standing right next to her.  I was convinced it was because she had told herself she was childless when I was a kid.  I'm not sure my opinion has changed on that.

My parents are coming to visit me soon and I can't wait.  When I think about how much they miss me and how much I miss them then my heart gets heavy and the world blurs.  When I stop to think about it, I am jealous of my siblings.  They will always have had a longer time with Mom and Dad than I will ever have.  They knew them when they were young.  My only consolation is that I had them all to myself as a child and didn't have to share very often.  I want to experience more memories with them and more love.  I want them to remain young and to spend more time together.  I am desperately afraid of the days where their minds fail and I will love them anyway and take care of them.

They are still young.  My father hasn't walked me down the aisle yet.  My mother hasn't made my quilt and wedding dress yet.  They haven't hugged me enough or held a child of mine.

I still have time.

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