My minds hand tugs at the line between now and then, one hand feeds the other and I watch as the past moves into view.
It was a rainy autumn day.
Even now I can feel the fluttering beat of my heart as it kept time with the windshield wipers. The road ahead –like me– disappearing, reappearing with the pass of each swipe.
Do not ever expect me to be the sort of Grandmother who longs to play surrogate, I had five children of my own and have zero interest in the raising of yours.”
What had been a conversation between my mother and me had ended. The words hung between us as if strung out on a clothesline. Her usual breathy tone had turned metallic over the mere thought of caring for children years away from being born.
I see her. The girl I was. Wishing she were anywhere other than in that car. With eyes locked on the side view mirror, the future she had conjured, frame by frame, blowing down the road with the wind.
All these years later I wonder about the conversation before the conversation. Was it fear that laced my mother’s words? Did she worry I would become pregnant as a teen?
I have no idea.
Now I reach for that day, a moment clothes-pinned to the endless chord of memory, pull it to me, unclip it and replace it with another, then watch as the new image, my mother with my three children, drifts back in time. Then, with a hearty tug, I guide the line all the way back to present day.
So gorgeous. The longing is beautiful
Thank you.
I love your writing!
You are so sweet, thank you!
Lovely, haunting. Thank you. Also, love your photo!
Thanks Kim!
I love this piece, and I can understand your Mom’s approach. I love my grandchildren, but am so glad I’m not responsible for them 24/7!
Thank you for your nice comment Nora. We don’t have grandchildren yet and probably won’t for a while. I look forward to that stage of life and I agree with you that 24/7 would not be welcome!
Elin, I love reading your posts because your writing always evokes such powerful emotions. Beautiful – and that gorgeous photo sets the perfect mood for this piece.
Thank you my friend. xo
Beautiful-reminiscent-memorable… and I love the photo as well! Thank you so much for sharing.
Thank your Esther, I appreciate your taking the time to visit and comment.
What a vivid memory. You describe it beautifully.
Thank you, I appreciate your nice comment.
Wow what beautiful and thoughtful words and what this represents. I am in love with this picture too!
Thank you so much Wendy.
Elin my mother didn’t say this but her actions certainly said it for her! In some ways I wish she had. It would have been a much clearer way of doing things. Your pieces are always artistic gems that are evocative and creative. Thank you so much.
Yes, clarity is helpful. Thank you for your kind words Margaret.
Your writing is a reflection of your soul, Elin. And so you tug at ours and memories of things said that hang in our air forever. Oh, you are a beautiful writer!
Cathy what a lovely thing to say, thank you so much.
This struck me this morning so hard I can’t even explain it really. My mother made this exact same statement to me many years ago right down to the number of children 5. She meant it though, she has never paid much attention to any of them although maybe my 2 because they were first and I’m the only daughter. Now my daughter is pregnant with twins and I can’t imagine saying that much less actually meaning it to her. Now mom has Alzheimer’s she lives with me and I want to be a huge part of my grandchildren’s lives because I grew up without any, most had passed before I was born. She’s already jealous I can feel it. It’s like walking a tightrope.
Rena thank you for your comment and sharing your experience. I empathize so much with you, walking a tightrope in your own home has to be really challenging and only made worse by jealousy. Congratulations on the impending birth of your grandchildren, how wonderful that you have the opportunity to be the grandmother you never had. Needless to say I wish you all the best with juggling all of the emotions that are sure to surface for your mom once they are born.
My mother was a distant grandmother, she loved all of them of course, but never gave herself fully over to her role as a grandparent. I have found since her death that I am able to focus more on what she was capable of versus what she resisted or was not able to give emotionally. It’s as if her death freed me to see her more as a woman than as my mother. Like you, I look forward to being a grandmother and imagine that just as my relationship with my own children is different from what I shared with my mom as her daughter,my relationship with my grandchildren will be too.
All the best and thank you again for your comment.
Such an evocative, moving post. Your writing hits me smack dab in the heart.
Gosh… the things mothers say without thinking about it (at least I hope it was just blurted without considering the barbs sent out with it). These sorts of memories surely make one consider more carefully their words to their children, regardless of age.
This grandmother wants to hug young Elin. (Well, grown up Elin, too.)
Ah you are the best Lisa! Thank you xo
As the years go by and I realize that I am the age of the older women I once met when I was but a young twenty something, I realize how quickly time truly does fly. I won’t go back to being that young girl again however.. I’m enjoying where I am too much in the moment.
Nice place to be. Thanks for taking the time to share.
Ditto Lois’s comment.
This post made me visit a time my mother made a very similar comment to me oh, so many years ago. To be able to visit with her today and get the answers I never did while she was alive…
So beautiful, Elin.
Yes…so agree Mary,if only.
Elin – as I read this, I realized all over again that we can never completely know the minds and hearts of our mothers although as we become mothers, I suppose we gain some insight. I find myself remembering my own mom, hitting her 40s and seeing me become a mother. She had five of us too, all a year apart, and then gained six step kids. I forgot for years that she was also a woman, young still, who regretted, yearned, and said things sometimes (she was/is known for her bluntness) that she would take back if she could or simply forget she ever said. You put all of this in a beautiful small jewel of an essay.
Thank you for your kind words Betsy. I agree… It truly took my mother’s death for me to separate myself as her daughter, only then could I see her as the woman she was.
I remember hearing my mother utter those words as well. My sister said the same thing to her daughter and has hardly had any contact with any of her grandchildren. It is very sad
It is sad. I have been so inspired by the women I know who have grandkids and embrace their role as a grandparent with all their heart. Thanks for being here today Jennifer and for commenting.