Life of Amy

CogSci, Knitting, and Other Shenanigans

my mother’s child March 30, 2006

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 11:21 pm

I’m alive. Horribly, terribly alive. Alive in this rain, in this cold, in this consciousness. I’m scared because I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m indignant because it’s all going too fast. People change before my eyes and I’m powerless to stop them. I’m not standing still, but it feels as if I were. People have been disappointed; they’ve had their plans changed. I remember changing my plans two years ago. No east coast, baby. West coast. Stay. I suppose it turned out, but talking on the phone today as I sat in the hospital made me realize how much things are changing; friends change. Oh, yes, did I mention that my grandma is in the hospital. Double bypass surgery. At the age of 76. Last Sunday. I don’t know what I would do without my grandmother, her sarcasm, her stubbornness, her love. She took care of me when I was little, and even though I take care of her more now, she still does it. She makes dinner for us, nags us to do things that will be good for us. That’s just the kind of woman she is, and I wonder if, in some regards, that’s who I’ll grow up to be. It’s funny. I am so very much my mother’s child, as she is my grandmother’s. Some cousin asked if my mom and I were sisters today. I suppose that should be a compliment, but I don’t know whether or not to be confused, appreciative, or insulted. I suppose I am truly my mother’s child. What do I do as I stand here, watching the world zip by unheeding. Do I run off to join it, knowing that I will never catch up? Do I spin, watching as those I love evaluate me, how I’m always home when something is amiss, how I always need something more? Why can’t I be self-sufficient? I always need people, and though I know that people need people (cliche, I understand), do I depend on people a little too much. Too many questions and never any answers. Such is the story of my life, and life may be too short to dwell on all this, eh?

If you got through this, congrats. Maybe I’ll bake you a cookie.

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