We all know that I've never seen a picture of my parents together, just the two of them, from the time that they actually liked each other. And no matter how many late nights I spend trying to fit two separate pictures together I just can't make things match up, which makes perfect sense since we never really know what transpires between two people in and out of love, but which drives me mad. I need to learn that I don't have to be able to see the past to move away from it.
Instead, I've been focusing on a specific picture of my mother, from when she was about seventeen. Her t-shirt says "100% crazy" and she's got her thumbs hooked through rainbow striped suspenders. A fedora rests smugly on top of her straight waist-length hair and she leans cockily against what might just be a Nova. It's this picture that reminds me that my mother and I are the same, that she also once wanted to drive and drive until she fell off the edge of the world, that she spun until she was dizzy and sang along to the radio at the top of her lungs just like me. It helps me understand that she took some wrong turns and by taking them taught me what not to do as best she could.
No comments:
Post a Comment