Going Backwards

Coulda sworn I was turning 40 this winter but apparently, I'm still seven. My mom left yesterday after swooping in to take care of me post-surgery (remember the elbow incident?) and we repeated so many familiar behaviors, rituals we thought gone forever.

Though she no longer had to chase me down and pin me with her knees to brush my hair, it didn't make it any easier. "Gosh, I've forgotten how to do this," she laughed, "but at least you don't stick your head out the car window anymore. Gawd, that was so frustrating" Heh.

Pulling my pants on/off - I'm amused how familiar this felt. Mind you, I was much smaller the last time this ocurred. It's much more humbling the second time around. To this point, I'm pretty sure the last time my mother bathed me, I(we) did not have the DD's to contend with. When it came to applying deoderant, I advised her: "Think practical. Pretend it's spackle."

Knowing that I talk of leaving San Francisco, it always helps for her to see the evidence firsthand. When we did the grocery shopping, she was floored at the cost. When she asked the butcher about getting a simple rump roast, he made a sniffy face and retreated to the back room, probably to consult his rarely-used reference manual, 'Middle-Class Meat.' We passed a newspaper headline that screamed: "Cost of living in SF, highest in state" and a magazine teaser: "Why parents give up on San Francisco." Then, at some point, she made the comment: "It must be frustrating knowing that nearly every man you meet is gay." Sounds like I will no longer have to explain myself any further.

Meanwhile, back at the homestead, she cooked, she cleaned, she organized and generally dispensed of love at every turn. Together, we read magazines, played games (she's ruthless at RummiKube) and even enjoyed an episode of "Freaks and Geeks." She washed my clothes and clipped my nails, signed my checks and fed my cat, answered my phone and spoiled me with gifts. For someone as fiercely independent as myself, it felt awfully liberating to hand over the keys to my life, especially to someone who'd given me the keys to begin with.

She returned home yesterday and my tiny apartment seems so quiet. I no longer need the pain pills every four hours and I even made a sort-of ponytail by myself. Guess I'm finally growing up, again.