Saturday

Gorgeous, sunny day but a definite sweat shirt wearing day as well. I had hoped for a few more swimming days after we got back from all our traveling. I loved the weekend afternoon swims that Julia and I had during July, but . . . well, maybe it will warm up and maybe not. After being here for a little over 2 years, I am beginning to get in sync with the seasons. Last week, I decided to buy Julia winter jacket and snow pants and I've been collecting winter dresses and skirts from ebay for the past month. I have learned that short sleeves and dresses without tights or stretch pants are only for the first 2 weeks of school.

Julia is at the computer as I write. She is on the My little pony website and watching videos for "produces" and playing very commercial games. She runs from the computer to where her pony toys are and in passing calls out to me, "Friends are very important." I know that she means the pony friends and what she has just been watching but the message speaks volumes. She wants friends.

I have to add this to my list. I have not paid attention and cultivated someone for Julia. Even if the plate is full, which it seems to be right now, there has to be room for this.

A little later: David wanted to set up our new-to-us computer. It was time for us to buy a new computer and it was on the list for the summer, but on one wanted the computer at my mother's house that either Walter or Carol set up for her. It is newer than ours with a lot more space. We needed a new monitor (on sale at Best Buy) and a wireless card, but there you are for a mere pittance of what we thought about spending.

It is these things, ordinary and insignificant, that we took from my mother's house that touch me deeply-- the wooden tongs that I used when I was roasting peppers last week, a pile of white napkins that will come in handy this winter, a second wood rolling pin, the very casual early fall jacket that I will put on very soon. The big things that I took from the house -- two chairs and two chests of draws are just stored, the chairs wrapped in clear plastic wrap as if they were steaks from Copps -- have no place yet in my house, but the small stuff is put in appropriate draws and will make an appropriate appearance when needed. They will serve as small reminders of where I came from, what I left, and what I wanted to keep close.

And now some guilty truth, I don't really miss my mother. She was not a good mother to me. She was adequate -- food, shelter, clothing, and good education adequate -- and these days I am beginning to believe that adequate was good enough for a start (And I know that so so many children have no where near that start). Somehow, I cannot shake the feeling that I was good for her, I stretched her (not as much as would have been really beneficial to me), but what I learned from her was want, lack of generosity, lack of support, and not the kind of love that I needed to flourish as I grew. Instead, it took a painful break from the family to find support and direction, a break that she and I never talked about -- but then, that was the family way as well -- never talk about anything important. When my mother was ill, she talked about what she wanted to wear after she died. That was about as intimate, as close to the soul as we got. When I returned to Jersey in June and she was close to unresponsiveness, I said some things to her. I told her that I supported her decision to die. I told her that I was sorry that she and I were such an unlikely pair to be mother and daughter. I told her that I loved her but that I was not sorry that I was living my life just the way that I wanted.

She frowned.

So I am grieving in my own, probably warped, way. And I feel free. And oh, so guilty for feeling it. I said to David the other day that I can now design a winter holiday card any way that I want which was something that just struck me. David looked perplexed and ask if I always hadn't done that? Well, yes, but I had her disapproval in my head, and the one year that I sent cards that included by Christmas and Hanukkah, she called me to say that she never wanted a Hanukkah card from me again.

What will my cards look like this year?

What I do miss, is the sense of a stable family of some sort. Without my parents, I am now responsible to make and keep what I want of family together and living. I have been doing this for years for myself and my family of choice, but I never felt the responsibility of it. Now, it is very clear. The small things that I took from my mother's house remind me that I had parents, I had a mother, who tried, however imperfectly, to make and keep a family. It is good to be reminded of that; it is good to believe that they tried the best that they could and grew and changed as they were able. The last proof of that was my mother's acceptance of Julia and my father's excitement that we were bringing her home even though he never got to meet her. After not supporting any of the decisions of my life, this last decision that they were able to support or reject was possibility the most important to accept. For Julia, it meant that she had a Babja to talk to on the phone and visit a few time and watch die.