about my mother

I haven’t posted for the past few days, mostly because I spent nine hours traipsing around London in the heat on Saturday and haven’t fully recovered. I’ve written half an essay on something, but it needs a lot more work before it’s shareable.

Looking to be inspired, I found a writer’s block prompt generator.

It asked me, “What do you like best about your mother?”

It’s a tough question. I like a lot of things about my mother. I like that she knows when to offer advice, when to listen and make non-committal noises, and when to unleash a stream of creative invective at whoever it is that’s upset me. I like that she’s proud of anything I accomplish, however inconsequential it might be. She’s proud of me when I get a new job, she’s proud of me when I perform, she’s proud of me when I get myself out of difficult situations. She’s also proud of my ability to write joke advice leaflets and open bottles of prosecco.

My mother makes me laugh. My mother has a strength I’m in awe of. My mother is wise. My mother skives off important things she’s meant to being doing and spends the time lying around triumphantly. My mother does a note-perfect impression of Janet Street-Porter. My mother is empathetic and compassionate to the last. I fail to see how anyone could manage to not like her.

The thing that I’m most grateful to my mother for is that she makes no assumptions about me. She doesn’t compare me to society’s model of successful and happy, or to any ideas she may or may not have had before I was born about what I ought to be like or the direction my life ought to take. She’s never seen me as a reflection on her, a vessel for her hopes and dreams, an extension of or an accessory to her life. I’ve never felt like I was competing with some abstract idea of a daughter; my mother has always treated me like a person. She’s taught me and cared for me and got me out of any number of scrapes, but at the same time she’s excited to learn from me and comfortable asking for my help. She treats me like an equal.

The best gift my parents have given me (besides question everything question everything QUESTION ALL THE THINGS) is that not only have I never doubted their love for me, I’ve always been completely secure in the knowledge that they like and respect me. I’ve never wondered if I’m a disappointment to them, or if they were expecting something better out of parenthood.

If I had to give one single answer, the thing I like most about my mother is that she’s also my friend, and it’s a friendship I’ve never questioned.