The first time…ever I saw your face.
Posted on October 4, 2015
I thought the sun rose in your eyes
And the moon and the stars
Were the gifts you gave
To the dark, and the endless skies
This photo is also proof of the power in reconnecting with my cousin. I now have pictures of her, of them, of the other side of the family I never really knew. Getting the photos was like living a lifetime of memories in an hour. They’re also all I have to reconnect to. In talking to my cousin I’ve learned other things: that my grandmother’s mother blamed her for her brother’s death when she was a baby. That she was not close to her parents. That she had a nervous breakdown when my mother was 12. Each new fact sheds new light on what my mother’s issues with her may have been.
It’s easy to discern a pattern in these facts. She was not close to her parents. My mother was not close to hers. And you know what, so am I. I am not close to my parents. I am the same. But there’s still a central mystery here I can’t get the answer to, and that is – why? Is it genetic? Are women in my family line just designed to be shit mothers? Or are we just shit daughters? Is it mental illness? Why? The more I learn the less satisfied I am with the answers. Other people have challenging lives and manage to maintain loving family connections. Why not us?
Shortness of Breadth
Thoughts, Commentary and Analysis from an Everyday Feminist
life without borders
"I tramp the perpetual journey."- Walt Whitman