AuburnChick's Adventures

An interesting thing happened yesterday.

My mom called me.

To understand the significance of this, you must know a few things.

My mom and I are not especially close.  Actually, we’re not close at all.  I’ve never quite understood why.

My mom divorced my dad when my sister and I were very young.  As the oldest, I bore the responsibility of taking care of the two of us while Mom worked the many long hours common for single moms.  We were left alone most nights.  Babysitters were expensive, and you really didn’t need them back in the 70’s.

There were a couple of different men in Mom’s life at various points during my early childhood.  I remember one in particular.  His name was Bruce.  He wanted to marry my mom, but something held her back.  I don’t quite know what.  All I remember is his kindness.  That ended abruptly one day when we unexpectedly moved out of his house.  I was devastated when I had to leave my brand new skis behind.

Mom eventually married a man she would remain married to for the majority of my adolescence.  We moved to Alabama, where I eventually grew up, married, and moved out of the house.

Through all those years, though, there remained a barrier between the two of us…unspoken.

After I married Mr. AuburnChick, we experienced the tug-of-war battle that newlyweds often face at important times of the year…i.e. Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Whose house would we stay at.

I’ll admit that I yielded to the Mr.’s wishes, and we spent the majority of the holidays with his family.  Mom resented this.  The chasm between us widened with each passing year as resentment and guilt pushed us further away from one another.

After the birth of Soccer Chick, I became very protective.  You see, Mom had not made good choices in the past, and I was not about to let those choices affect my daughter the way they had affected me.  Mom had a hard time understanding and accepting, and she only did so reluctantly.

Meanwhile, the years passed, and the children grew.  Mom rarely came to visit, and when she did, things were strained.  We both walked on eggshells, trying desperately not to offend the other.

When I reconciled with my birth father, Mom went over the edge.  She couldn’t understand how I could forgive a man for not being a part of my life all of those years.  Amazing how your memory fades with time.  I don’t know exactly who was to blame for his absence.  All I knew was that I needed to forgive to move on with my life.

During the last few years, Mom and I have rarely talked more than once or twice on the phone.  We only see each other at Christmas, and it’s for about three hours.  This despite the fact that we live about five hours away from each other.  She’s never seen the house I moved into five years ago.

This Christmas, I could tell that Mom was hurting.  I picked up on several comments she made…comments of regret at having missed so much.

She called me yesterday, and we talked about the time we’ve lost.  She’s 60 years old, and she’s disappointed that she doesn’t know her grandchildren better.  She’s hoping it’s not too late.  It’s not, really, even though Soccer Chick will be leaving home in a little over a year.

I find it very sad.  I don’t know that the relationship can ever be what close mother-daughter relationships are supposed to be like.

I only know that when I’m her age, I don’t want to have the same kind of regrets.  Oh, I know everybody has regrets as they get older.  Heck, I regret things moments after I do them, sometimes.  But overall…

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