I’ve recently mentioned that my mother made an intriguing purchase on our trip to Barnes & Noble. It was one of their writing prompt type journal concepts. Its title was “I Want To Know You,” or something along those lines. The instructions are to purchase the book for your mother, give it to her, and ask her to fill it out.
The book was on a side display when my mother handed me a journal meant to coach out your creativity. I handed the book to my mother in exchange, half expecting her to laugh or joke about it. I was quite surprised when she held onto it and ended up making the purchase.
On the ride home, my mother shared a strong opinion on a matter I feel quite strongly about. I had no idea my mothers opinion on the matter was so far from my own. I was outraged by the discovery, and also felt a wave of guilt.
The guilt was fueled – not only by my shouting and outrage, but also – by my lack of knowledge to her opinion on the matter. I instantly felt like an ass hot for not purchasing that book for her. How do I know so little about my own mother as a person. She is so much more than my mother, and I know so little about those parts of her. I’m so grateful she’s never hated me for never getting to know her.