December 23

Today, I miss my parents.

Or rather, I miss the idea of them.

I used to get so wrapped up in wanting, needing their love, needing them to just hug me and hold me that I actually believed that they did stuff like that.

They don’t. Never did.

So I’ve figured out that I don’t miss them, I miss the idea of them.

Right now I just want a mom.

I want a mom to make me some hot tea and rub my back. I want her to tell me stories about herself, about the trouble she would get into, about the boys she liked, who her first kiss was. What her favourite subject in school was. If she was ever afraid. Who her best friend was.

I know nothing about my mother. I know she met my dad in a bar while in College. I know he proposed to her in her mother’s kitchen. I know he bought her a statue of a cat one Christmas for a present and she hated it.

I know nothing of my father, either. I know his dad died from lung cancer when I was 3. I know my dad took refrigeration at Algonquin. I know he had a cat, a siamese I think. I know once him and his friends took apart a volkwagon beetle that belonged to their auto-mechanic teacher and put it back together on the roof of the school. I know he used to drink a lot.

How is it that I can spend 37 years with them and know nothing about them?

My mom always said that she was not my friend. She was my mother. And that hurt. Because sometimes you need a friend in your mom because you know she won’t judge you or try to change you. But she always did.

Sometimes I just want to be taken care of. I want someone to make a yummy supper and not ask me a million questions on where things are and how to make it. I’d like to just sit down and be quiet and then be called to dinner. To a yummy, beautiful dinner and there will be joyful discussion and love shared over the table.

And then I realize that I’m 39. Almost 40. And I shouldn’t need a mother. I haven’t needed one for a very very long time.

That kind of makes me sad.

It makes me feel very alone. Because I don’t have a joyful family waiting to have dinner with me. I don’t have a mom who’s been cooking all day and will greet me at the door with a huge hug because she just wants to hold me. And will push me to sit down, to eat snacks and have a drink and just talk. And there will be presents under the tree and soft Christmas music on and my brother will show up with his family and it won’t be awkward, because he and I will be close again. But were we ever close?

Am I dreaming this because I always wanted it?

And at 39 I find myself in an empty house with your father at work, you on the snow mountain and the dog staring at me because she wants food. And there is a Christmas dinner tomorrow at Nana’s, but… dad’s family isn’t crazy about us. About me, I guess. And I honestly can’t be bothered to go somewhere where I will be ignored and I will have to sit there and pretend to have conversations when I’m actually not. I’d rather be at home.

Wow do I sound pathetic.

I am grateful. For my small wonderful family. And I am grateful for God who gave me a loving small family, instead of a large, apathetic one.

sorry I’m whining.

mom.

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