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| Mother and me with Grandma and Michael |
I used to believe my mother was the strongest person on the planet. Maybe most children do.
She ruled our household, doling out punishments and rewards seemingly arbitrarily. There was no point in appealing to a higher court for Dad was no match for Mom's strong will. She made the rules and punishment was swift and severe for a first offense to deter any future challenges.
Knowing that direct confrontation was futile, I retreated to the basement and waited patiently for my opportunity to escape. "Don't tell Mother" was our family battle cry as we kept each others' secrets.
Finally my time came to go away to college. My present for my 18th birthday was luggage. I finagled my way onto campus as a boarder in a sorority house and as a tenant in a fraternity house during the summers. After graduating college, I moved into apartments with roommates and boyfriends before moving to Ireland to build a new life. I never planned to live at home again.
No one was more surprised than me by the sudden urge to move back stateside eight years later. Just as I had packed up everything to move overseas nine months after my first visit to Dublin, now I reversed the process and gave away everything once again to move home.
I only planned to live at home for a couple of months, but somehow this has stretched to 15 years. There are many reasons, of course--financial reverses, failed romances, and caring for my father at home when he developed Lewy Body Dementia. After Dad died, it suited us both for me to stay on.
So when did my mother change from this intimidating authority figure into this frail vulnerable woman afraid of losing control of her independence? And if it could happen to the strongest person I know, then will it happen to me eventually?
No wonder I can't sleep at night unable to breathe from the worst allergy attack I've had in years. Just help me, Lord, get through this day, this hour, this minute, this second...
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