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There is nothing new to say.


I miss her, as always. I want to tell her everything that is going on in my world. I imagine her reactions to everything and what she would say and our conversations. And while part of me would like to actually write out those conversations as I did in the early days of this blog I feel like much of what we would talk about is not mine to share. Which is what was so great about her. We could talk about anything and anyone and know it was private.


Above all else my mother would never intentionally hurt someone's feelings. Growing up my father would always say I needed thicker skin. To this day my sister doesn't understand why certain memories still sting. 'Too sensitive.' And until the last couple years I thought that was a bad thing, something to be ashamed of, my sensitivity. A character flaw. Weakness. And maybe because my mother was just as sensitive, even if we showed it in different ways, I never had to pretend with her. Even though we may have been judgmental all those hours spent on the phone we knew it stayed between us. We knew that we were not judging each other either. It was safe. Which may be what I miss the most. The safety. Knowing that she had my back no  matter the situation. No matter what I told her or what I did or who I judged.


My son’s life is much different than mine was growing up. He has no siblings. I work outside the home. His parents are divorced. He hangs at his friends homes instead of everyone coming to mine, like they did back on Edinborough Drive. Yet I feel so strongly that I am like my mother in some crucial ways as I parent him. The love and nurturing, the emotional safety I hope I offer him as it was given to me. Worrying about his physical well being when he is out biking with friends. If only my mother had had the ability to track my whereabouts with an iPhone she may have finally embraced the internet, not to mention learn to use a cell phone. 


My boundaries are better than my mother’s were. I walk away when my kid is being a mouthy teenager instead of trying to make him stop somehow. I always knock and ask prior to entering his room. I check his cell phone but always with his knowledge. I understand truly my job is not to be his friend. That doesn’t mean that the premiere of the final season of ‘Brooklyn 99’ didn’t excite me a little too much knowing I would have a little more time with him, just that I understand my place. Still looking back I would take my mom with her lack of barriers if only for a little more time. If I have learned anything in the last twelve years it’s that I had the best friend ever and I miss her. And yearn….

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