annarosenblumpalmer.com
When doves cry. - Anna Rosenblum Palmer
I push open her door 20 minutes before I am due to arrive and walk right into her house. I’m greeted by her elated dog who thinks we are going for a W- A -L-K, and her confused middle son. Literally one leg into his jeans. I apologize to both, it is too dreary to walk. 48 and raining, and I am a total wimp/exercise avoider. And the boy who knows me well, was not expecting an intruder. I was wondering why my mom was using the front door he explains. He and I have a bit of an independent relationship, he teaches Oliver chess, and we have hung out and talked about Omnivores dilemna while rolling our eyes at his mothers organized single serve snack cabinet. It was not always thus. The first time I met her was at a coffee shop downtown. A mutual friend introduced her and I was my typical B-G-G self…with the B shining bright. After 5 minutes of boring small talk she went to excuse herself, saying her son was at home and was hungry. I questioned this. “He’s old enough to stay alone but not old enough to eat?” She, being the G-G-G that she is, only allowed a flicker of annoyance to cross her face. “I’m worried about choking.” I’m sure my judgement was easy to interpret. We knew we would never be friends. I thought she was a control-o mom, she thought I was a bitch. And we were both right. But like everything else that wasnt the whole story. As I type this she has returned home from dropping off her daughter and is chuckling as she plays with something that makes fart noises. Amusing herself mightely. She is not interrupting me to make chit chat, but moving smoothly through the kithcen, re-setting the order. I wish she could do this at my house. We managed to get over our initial judgement when our kids fell in love. It was just tiring to dislike each other when in fact we could like each other a lot. So now we call each other on our shit. I with relish, she with care. Friends who become like family. In my college my chosen friend group felt more like family than my family. My roomate and I made plans to live together forever, even if we both married and had kids we figured we could play more card games, take turns heating up the velveeta for cheese dip, and leave notes on the table every morning. Some work situation feel like family. Disfunctional mostly. I know from personal experience that restaurants, with long late hours, and a shift drink or two can turn coworkers into confidents. Then there is your family of origin. For me a tight three that expanded during the summers to aunts and uncles and cousins, and aunts parents, and cousins cousins, and cousins, cousins, cousins. ...