I live a long way from my family and see them once every 2 years on a good stretch. That is not how I thought things would go when we set off from the UK all those years ago. I was used to travelling and assumed I would be home for at least a month once a year. This year, after 2 years away, I took a sneaky trip home for a week. I couldn't tell my friends because there wasn't any time to visit (Buds - I am so sorry) and I couldn't take the children or my husband because it would've been too stressful and expensive. I took a ride all by myself - I read a book and watched 3 movies - I arrived back in my hometown and knew from the expression on mum's face that I had left it too late - my mother - sitting in the lounge of my childhood, surrounded by all that I know to be home didn't know who I was.
"I know I should know you dear, I know we have met."
It is hard to be travel tired, maybe a little life tired and continue a conversation when you just want to cry. It is hard to talk about all members of your family (even yourself) in the third person because your mum knows they exist, but doesn't realize that it is indeed the same person sitting there on the couch. It is hard to suddenly realize that being so far from home has affected your ties so badly with your first family, but the move needed to have happened all the same. It is sometimes hard to accept the realities of this aging in our parents and in ourselves - it is hard and yet we all do it. We all do it in so many ways - my sister does it everyday through taking care of mum - I was able to do it just for a week - just for a week I could share in the memories with joy and smiles because I don't hear them repeated every day. Ask questions that I'd never asked before about the past, finding out more about mum's life before she'd been a mother and a wife. I was able to hear about how she loves me and misses me - her daughter Caroline who is over in Canada. I was given the opportunity to shrug off the typical daughter / mother baggage we had packed away over the years and be a friendly visitor, a kind stranger who was interested in hearing about a life.
In a couple of days of my visit I think I became familiar once again, I never heard my name, but sensed a better understanding even if things were confusing too. For the first time since I have visited home it was only my sister at the door waving at that horrid travel time of 5am - it was only my sister that I could see in the rear view window as I rounded the corner of my old street. Mum is here, in that I feel lucky, but she's missing too all in the same breath. It is hard to register how one should be feeling during these times. There is gratitude, guilt and regret all mixed in with a weary sadness. Many people I know are experiencing changed circumstances with their parents as everyone gets that little bit older - it isn't easy for anyone involved. My heart goes out today to everyone who is sharing time with their mums, remembering their mums, caring for their mums, missing their mums and for those who just wish they could have their mum back. Thinking of you all. X
