You’ve walked this earth 2 ½ times longer than I have, and you’ve accomplished so many things, yet I feel like I hardly know you at all. It’s been a year or two now since I figured we could be more like friends than a mother-daughter pair; I’m living on my own, providing for myself. I’m all grown up now. But for some reason, you’re still just . . . Mom.
That’s not a bad thing. It’s really not. It’s just that I know so little about you, and I want to know more, that’s all. You were young once, like me. You made mistakes, I’m pretty sure. How did you recover? How did you make amends?
Kudos to you on your retirement, by the way. It must be nice not having to balance class upon class of elementary school-aged children anymore, on top of taking care of your own two kids. Still, I wonder how you did it. How you stayed alive, how you stayed sane. How you stayed motivated.
I remember looking through your high school and college yearbooks when I was younger, maybe 11 or 12 years old. You ran varsity track for both, right? I think I’m recalling that correctly. I remember feeling amazed that you could participate in athletics and go to school all at the same time. I remember I struggled to balance everything then, even though I was only a kid.
I still struggle, Mom. I haven’t gone running in three days. I can’t find any sort of motivation to get me off my sorry butt and out the door.
And the thing is, I know that I can do it, Mom. I know it doesn’t take much to lace up my New Balance shoes and hit the asphalt. I’ve done it countless times before. So why can’t I convince myself to do it now?
I guess I’m not really looking for the friend-type right now. I need advice, really, the stuff only my mother can give me, something that’ll get me out of the house. Because it’s a beautiful day and I don’t want to waste another minute of it just sitting around.
Your loving daughter,
(Happy Friday, everybody!)