Sunday May 10, 2020; 9:05 AM EDT
- My mother was a regular reader of this blog. Maybe she still reads it, where ever she is, whatever form she is in. I have women friends who read the blog, I think in a similar way to the way she read it. #
- She was a very smart person, lots of brain power, but also very wounded, and the wounds, which we shared in a way, made it hard for us to be close. Maybe toward the end of her life she opened up a bit, but she had a fear of men, given to her by her parents, and she passed that on to her children, in the weird way that parents give their agony to their children. But she read the blog. That was something. #
- I dream about her every night. They are not happy dreams, they are dreams of unresolved anger, disloyalty. But I also feel for her in ways I didn't when she was alive. I wish I had protected her, which is ridiculous because she was the mother and I was the child. But it's there nonetheless. #
- I wish we could talk, but then I remember, we never accomplished anything with talk. Yet, she is the one who fed me, taught me, read to me, gave me her values, and ultimately was proud of me. #
- She was my mother and all that came with it. I hope she can read this and I hope she's happy. #
