FROG

My mom and I decided she should come out for Christmas, but I was a bit apprehensive. Whenever she came, it was difficult. At 80 years of age, she was still the same mother who had raised me – very opinionated, critical, and judgmental. Even though I wasn’t sure about her visiting me, I always kept her age in mind, knowing that this might be the last time I would see her.

My program had taught me to let her be herself and that I didn’t have to react to or engage in her drama. It worked at the beginning of the visit, though, I was usually pretty worn out by the end. Nonetheless, I was glad to see her. I picked her up at the airport a few days before Christmas. She was sitting in a wheelchair in the luggage area, waiting for her suitcases and me. She looked so fragile that my eyes filled with tears. I felt a rush of genuine love for her, especially seeing her as a little old lady approaching the end of her life.

At last I could accept my mother for who she was, and even though I still didn’t like her all the time, I could feel love for her. The best part was that after over 20 years, I was able to tell her I loved her. We had gone years at a time without talking to one another – long periods of resentment and anger. But now, playing the role of victim - the abused and mistreated child - no longer served me. What a freedom!

Because it was Christmas and one of our favorite times of the year, we went to Target and bought an artificial tree. As we sat before it, we reminisced over past Christmases with my kids, my dad, and Ryan. We talked about how many things had changed, and we cried and laughed.

My mom surprised me by sharing intimate details about her life. She shared that she still missed having sex at times. I laughed with this news, and she went on telling me about her libido, and how strong it has always been. I laughed louder, and said “Mom, I always thought I got that from my Dad!” She smirked at me as she took another sip of her wine. My Christmas miracle was feeling love between us.