There I am. Me and my cute little self sitting there while mommy fixes my hair. I don't know if I love this photo so much because it is just so darn cute (aka me!) or if I love the feeling I get when I look at it. I long to go back in time to when my mom was taking care of me. You see, these days she sits in a chair for hours. Doing nothing. I bathe her. I wash her hair. I blow dry and curl her hair (not in an old lady hair-do but something reasonably 'hip!'). I prepare her food. I give her medication two times per day. I take her to the bathroom because her brain doesn't usually tell her "It's time to go!" I try to talk to her, but she doesn't respond very much anymore.
We never had a wonderful relationship. She was always very strict with me. I rebelled. She still loved me even though I knew she was hurt and disappointed in me. I am forever grateful for that. Becoming a mother myself as definitely helped me understand her although it didn't erase all the hurt that I felt because she didn't always try to understand or accept my point of view. She didn't say "I love you" very often. I don't think she heard it very often from her mother (I didn't care for my grandmother).
I hope somehow through the 'fog' she understand that I forgive her for not showering me with 'I love you's' and that I understand how she was never encouraged or praised from her mom. She is still my mom and I am asked to respect and honor her. I will. Until she breathes her last breath.
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