New Tune

I woke up yesterday with a need to go see my mom. She is a lovely woman, bound by her own ideals and expectations of nurturing anyone who comes in contact with her. It’s really quite lovely to witness, however yesterday, when I went to see her, I had this sudden realization hit me. I’ve always seen my mom as a silent fighter. Someone who stands steadfast in her beliefs and a lover of family above all else. Yesterday was different. I had just finished changing the lightbulb under the microwave and staying on brand with not finishing a single household task in one sitting, had left the lid open. I had left the room and came back to my mom bent over, putting the cover on by herself. A wave of unexpected emotion just hit me. She looked so vulnerable and small. The light hit her face and I saw the wrinkles defined by the passing of time. Her forehead furrowed in concentration at the tedious task at hand. I searched for youth in her posture, I yearned in that moment to slow the trail of memories playing in my mind of all our fights, of the fleeting moments of laughter. I was hit with the sobering reality of her mortality. I wished, as I seemed to wish more and more as seconds fly by me unannounced, for time to stand still. I wanted to make her so proud. To show her all that she wanted me to be, perhaps needed me to be. I’m so afraid that I’m racing time on this track, and we all know this won’t be a photo finish. I think all the time about all that I want to accomplish before I leave this world, but for the first time, I was hit with this burden of all that I wanted to accomplish in my mom’s lifetime. And the two were far from synonymous. She’s selfish, certainly, but when it came to the moments that mattered, her children were always put first. I wanted to give her back an ounce of what she has given me. I was her opinionated daughter who often was too loud with her thoughts, thought after she spoke and continued to embarrass her so on schedule, that one could begin to wonder what her actual profession was. I wanted to show my mom that being proud of me could come easier. We didn’t just have to come together only to fight. Our disagreements didn’t need to define our relationship. That we could shed these heavy expectations we had placed on our heads. And you know what? I think I will. Starting yesterday. I don’t know how. But, I’m sure we’ll find a new rhythm, because the song that we’ve been moving to is overplayed and it won’t be the one I’ll be singing her out of this world with.