I had a psychic once tell me that, in a past life, my mother and I had
been great friends and when we were returned to this plane of existence,
I had chosen her to be my mother because "she would never let me down
and remind me of my roots". Naturally, as an enlightened being, I knew
this would be the best choice possible, but as a sub-par person of
hardly any substance, I was very doubtful of my higher form's decision.
Plato would not be pleased.
However, one should also take into account that this psychic was also my
mother's housekeeper and fellow conspiring divorcee for many years,
that offered unsolicited advice at every turn rather than vacuum the
stairs. It also was offered around the time that I discovered boys and
started attending sleepovers and the two single ladies regularly spent
afternoons with a wine bottle between them.
Many grains of salt were taken.
My mother and I have never really been on the same page of anything.
She has been quoted, many times in fact, saying that she preferred me as
a young child. What mother doesn't until one decides that being a
grown-up isn't all it's cracked up to be? But for "dressing so cute,
being so sweet, and not talking" to be her reasons makes me believe that
my mother imagined having children as more like having large exotic
pets- expensive and high-maintenance, but with major bragging points
among friends, an expected win at every pageant, and potentially cheap
labor. Maybe in that past life, we had been great friends only because
we shared an interest in pure-bred cats, and possibly dressing them in
dolls' clothes.
As for the roots of this family, they are fibrous at best- near the
surface, small and scattered. No traditions that can't be broken due to
a fit of ennui or disgruntlement, no loyalties or ties to the extended
farther than a stone's throw, no stories or recipes and hardly any
pictures to remind ourselves of our elders' tap root. It's difficult to
make the argument for loyalty or tradition when it means nothing, and
one show's their disregard on a constant basis. It's even hard to make
the argument of "holding on to your roots" when simply grasping at them
can pull them from the soil.
"You'll never understand until you have your own children," she says.
Perhaps I won't. But I don't think I'll make the same mistake with my
potential daughter of getting my friend to drunkenly try to convince her
to be obedient through the use of magic.
