Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that my mom is a real person. I mean, I know she's a real person, but I forget that she has a life of her own that existed long before I ever came into the picture.
As a kid, I don't think I ever realized that fact. It was like the "If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?" theory; if my mom is not around, performing mom-ish duties, does she really exist?
As an adult, our relationship has evolved, and I can see from a more logical and objective point of view; but part of me still wants to selfishly cling to the idea that my mom is my mom and that is the extent of her role.
I still watch her to see how she reacts, trying to use her life experience as a map for my own. I still crave her support and approval, wanting to live up to my own ideals of her expectations. I still see her as a guide to what a mother should be, modeling my own motherhood on the memories of my youth and the way she continues to mother me today.
Although neither of us is perfect, I can't think of anyone else I would rather emulate; there's no one else who can quite fill the role of Mom.
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