My mother is a nurse

My mother is a nurse (Major)
in the Army Reserves. She was activated last January (2003). She stayed
state-side to fill in for the other nurses who went over seas. When we lived
back east, I would plan a trip to visit her about every other month. It was only
a three and one half hour drive on easy roads, so I would frequent her domicile
as often as I could manage it. I would go alone or the girls would take turns
going when I offered to take them along. I loved the drive by myself. It wasn't
too long and allowed for thinking time, quiet time. The only downside was that
stretch west of Tulsa on I-44. I think there are only two bathrooms once you
pass Miami, unless you want to mess with having exact change for the lovely toll
machine. Paying to pee-not for me. I love going to her home because it is
comfortable, but fantastically decorated. She could've been an interior
designer/decorator. I grew up with it, so maybe the reminder of that is there,
too. Our days are leisurely: sleeping late, a brunch at Classen Grill, a trip to
the bookstore. Then we travel home to lay around reading our books. An afternoon
nap restores us and we are off to 501 Cafe or a French cafe in the city. We
finish the evening watching a new foreign film the other has seen or an old
favorite, guaranteeing laughs, with a glass of wine or two. We retire to our
beds with our books, saying goodnight and how much we enjoyed the day together.
The doors close almost all the way and one falls asleep to the other's quiet
sounds of turning pages. I miss her and the whole routine so very much. I always
returned home restored and ready again to be the wife, mother, citizen, that I
needed to be and that others depended on me to be. My mother and I had many
stacks against us while I was officially the daughter and she the mother; too
much negative history, too many bad men between us. She is a beautiful,
intelligent woman. I have always loved her desperately, and I believe she always
loved me in the capacity that she could at the time. Once I grew up, and the
burden of responsibility was removed from her, things changed a bit. Then, while
visiting my aunt, her sister, I was brought to a realization. My aunt pointed
out that I never allowed my mother to be the adult mother of an adult woman, and
my mother still treated me like I was a child. Neediness repulsed her.
Especially in females. Women were the reason her beloved father left her. The
alcoholic, psychotic mother and the demanding over-indulged older sister made
living in that house unbearable for him. As children, they were made to feel a
burden to their mother. This affected my mother deeply. She took on the role of
mothering her sisters. She got a job at sixteen at a small town diner and
brought home dinner every night while her depressed and despondent mother slept
their lives away. My mother never got to be the child. She grew up a poor girl
from a divorced family, not good in 50's small town Oklahoma. She made penance
by being a good worker. She studied hard and made good grades. She was athletic
and her physical ability and kindness to others compensated for her social
position and made her acceptable. My aunt also told me that my mother once
commented that I whenever I visited her I made her feel obligated to give me
something of hers. I was stunned. Later in bed, I asked myself if there was any
truth in her feeling. I determined that the next time I visited my mother, I
would be needless. I would hint at nothing. I also decided that I would go and
do what I could for her. I would cook, clean, entertain, take her to dinner. I
would take care of her. Reverse the roles. It worked wonderfully well. She felt
loved in return. She felt cared for. It was pinnacle in our relationship. She
then came to want to serve me, the mother of four daughters, her daughter, but
also her guest, her friend. While I was there, it also occurred to me as I
looked around that my mother's things were her comfort. She didn't want to give
any of her comfort away. Who would? Somehow, I freed her to be what she wanted
and desired to be in our relationship. I also liberated myself to enjoy her for
who she is, no longer subdued by what she hadn't been.