Mom

I asked my husband, "What do you think is the best quality I inherited from my mom?"  Without pausing for breath he quipped, "Well, you definitely didn't get her patience."

Very true; painfully so. But ha ha.  Yes, I laughed at that.  I tried to show I had a sense of humor, but quickly (remember the patience problem) moved back to pressing him.  He said, "Give me a moment to think about it."  I stood nearby, patiently waiting a whole few seconds, thinking that he'd be able to connect my mom and me somehow, but time stood still.

This didn't look good for me.

I'd like to say I left the scene to give him space to think, but I was feeling a bit prickly.
After 90 seconds, I approached him again.  "Any luck?" I asked.
"Still thinking," he said.
"You do think I have some good qualities, don't you?"
"Well of course, or I wouldn't have married you."
"Huh," I grunted.

Later I spoke with my mom.  She was on her way back from her 50th year college reunion.  Imagine?!  She was on a layover at the airport and texted me to say hi.  (By the way, I love that my 70-something year old mom texts 45-year old me. How cool is that?) I texted her back, nonchalantly saying that she could call me if she wanted; I was home alone because Mike had taken a drive.

God, I wanted my mom to call me.  I wanted my mom.

She called.  She never fails.  We talked about her weekend, which sounded reflective in a way I can only imagine.  What is it to reflect back 50 years to when you were in college?  What is it to tick off the successes, but also the deaths, the illnesses?  What is it to remember youth and to see decline?  Talking with her reminded me of a time I was speaking with her mother, my grandma Erickson, and Grandma was saying very matter-of-factly, "I'm one of the last of my friends.  Everyone has died."  Grandma Erickson volunteered at the senior living center and helped people far younger than she was.  She watched people wither and go. It's a brutal reality.

At that moment, I didn't want to be a voice on the end of the phone. I wanted to stop time, to sit across from my mom and hold her hand.  Not that she needed me, but that kind of reflection - one of really seeing what's in front of you - seems too honest and cruel.  My mom's nowhere near there.  Right?  She is vibrant and lovely and ALIVE for a long, long, long time.

I listened as my mom dealt with this somewhat painful reflection.  But shamefully, as I listened I wanted something from her.

"So, Mom, what do you think is the best quality that I got from you?"  It felt dirty to even ask; to plead for something good.

After a moment, she replied, "Your empathy."

And I wanted to cry.
Because my mother had said what I wished for most,
because she valued that part of me so much,
because even while in her own emotional churning, she was as generous as ever.

After I got off the phone with her, she texted me.
"Kindness would also apply! xoxom"

I will never be the woman my mom is, but I know I will die trying.

May you all know the love that I know from my mom.