I'm at my mom's tonight...with my oldest daughter.
Our family is a happy one...with its quirks of course as are most families.
As my two oldest daughters 24 and 22 venture into adulthood, we are playing with roles to see where we are now almost daily.
Both have graduated from college and moved away
And then moved back again.
One moved away again.
While our adult children moving back in with us was certainly not our first choice, I've been making the best of it.
As much as I can anyway.
It's hard to go home.
And I remember that just as much as anyone. I moved back in at home for a few months before I got married.
We're dealing with our own stuff
wrinkles that weren't there yesterday...even though we swear they don't bother us
coming to the realization that at almost 50, we're thinking very seriously about retirement.
They're dealing with stuff we already dealt with.
what is life?
who will they start it with?
Will they ever find that someone?
They have college degrees...now what??
They didn't realize everything cost so damn much.
And then, there's the 12 year old, who's just happy to be here...
talking with friends
listening to music
leaving stuff all over the house
setting the table
Somehow, somewhere we meet.
Some more than others.
9:40 p.m. (8)
Mom just walked in to comment on my pajama pants.
"What are you writing?" she asks.
Mom just went back downstairs.
She spent a good bit of time up here with me going through old sweaters in her closet.
Mom has been a self-sufficient woman for quite some time now and has always enjoyed a little shopping.
When she finds things she likes, she goes ahead and buys them in a couple of colors.
That habit has created a surplus of certain items as you can imagine.
Tonight we went through sweaters and discussed boots that she may or may not have given me a year or so ago.
She can describe the boots to a T and even describe the day she gave them to me, other items she gave me that day and the boxes the boots were in and where those boxes were placed.
I have no idea what she is talking about.
My oldest just called out to us from her bedroom at Mom's house to ask us if we knew that Debbie Reynolds died today.
I didn't know, but Mom did.
Mom said, "She was just a mom."
I was reading a book tonight by Lara Casey where she talks about truly loving unconditionally.
Giving, giving, giving, and giving some more.
No matter how it's received or whether or not you're ever thanked.
And even if you are not thanked, knowing that you really are.
I can't think of a better analogy for a mother daughter relationship.
Loving in ways authentic to the person doing the loving.
That love being accepted by the others...
Possibly not even really understanding.
But, not really caring whether or not you do understand.
To lose a mother
Or a daughter.
We have to someday...we know that.
That doesn't mean we have to like it.
Or that we're ever prepared for it...or even should be.
I think we'll take a picture like this tomorrow...
Don't you know that each of the mothers and the daughters cherished this photo?
Life is hard.
Some days are harder than others.
I'm pretty sure this is the way life is supposed to be.
I hope so anyway.