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March 24, 2006
Spiraling through life
I'm amused at the integration of a shot glass into my morning routine.
No, I'm not starting my day with a shot of Zygo, the "morning vodka", as I once threatened back in Rochester. Although the idea is not without its merits.
I've been using it to do "tincture shots"... so far it's the easiest way I've found to take the nasty dandelion-and-other-herbs-I-can't-remember tincture I made.
I'm sure my grandma would question me loudly and directly were she to visit and notice it with my things. We have to call the martini glasses "parfait cups". And it's not far off, considering I originally purchased and used them for just that purpose. Nonetheless, whether you're drinking martinis or not, it's best not to say the word within earshot of certain folks.
Last night I got more present to some facts, namely that while my grandma never "got me" (still doesn't), my mom absolutely celebrated me unconditionally.
Yes, I lay many of my issues at my grandmother's feet. Perhaps my mom just didn't have enough time to mess me up, passing away when I was only 13. But it was never my mom who made comments, proud sounding but also judgmental and bewildered, about how "weird" and "nutty" I supposedly was/am.
It doesn't matter how you try to word your thoughts and feelings; it doesn't matter if you don't even speak them. You don't raise a child without your true relationship being felt on some level or another. We're more transparent than we think.
And I know my mom didn't care if I spent all my time in the adult non-fiction section of the library, took apart calculators, read about magick and the occult, was fascinated by computers, and didn't play sports.
While my grandma always tried to convince me to be content with the way things were, my mom found ways to take us beyond our white, Christian, suburban upbringing. It was as simple as taking a chinese cooking class and buying a wok. Making wontons together fairly regularly from then on is a memory I treasure.
I think mom would have supported me whole heartedly in going to New York for college; to this day, grandma still says, "I think you should have stayed here for college." I know she would be more than ok with me being gay—I think she would celebrate it with me. And I would be able to ask her directly if the things I've heard about her and her female "roommate" we lived with for a year were true or not ;-)
Now I feel like I have something "new" to mourn. It's like finally finding out that you're missing something you weren't aware of missing before. I wish my mom was still alive to love me unconditionally now. I wonder how things would have been different had she been there. I wonder how things would be different now.
Posted by Josh A. at March 24, 2006 10:32 AM
Comments
you were lucky to have a mom who loved you unconditionally. i bet she'd proud of who you've become.
Posted by: obsessed at March 24, 2006 02:26 PM
you had a lovely lovely mom. it's wonderful to read your writing about her.
Posted by: Ari Moore at March 27, 2006 06:12 AM