I used to imagine having this dramatic confrontation
where I'd reveal everything in this powerful voice
and my kids would have to realise how wrong they
were about me.
As this was rather tasteless, I thought about an
email, one of those beautifully constructed bits
of deathless prose.
I imagined various scenarios and each slammed up against
the same 'wall'.
I choose to be as vacuous as they are, to share
nothing, to answer in sentence fragments.
I assumed they would hold to a fantasy long after
my death, so moved the entire relationship,
(or lack thereof) to the box marked Trivia.
Over the years various 'tricks' were attempted
to pull my tongue; I recall the last trick was in one
telling me my Grand Daughter wanted to know my 'history'.
I had grabbed this with job, and began to write about
my Mother's side of the family, posting a 'chapter' each day.
So taken by my story I wrote on and on, emailing one chapter
had reached chapter 4 and for some reason sent chapter 14 instead.
There was no response.
There was no notice that I had gone from 3 to 14 for
no one was reading my work. It was just a trick.
I ceased.
Years passed and out of courtesy I sent an ecard.
This provoked a long diatribe about the meaninglessness of
ecards.
I ceased all attempts at communication.
Years passed and then I was told that one of them wanted
to get in touch with me.
So I connected.
Because it was a facial call he could gauge that his arrows
fell to the side.
This is because after so many years one simply no longer has
that automatic caring.
And he realised whatever hook he had was gone.
And he realised he wanted to make a link. Before it was too late.
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Life Is Not Fair
Okay, I'm going to call her Pricilla, but that's not her name. I was her best friend. She was not my best friend. I was her best friend because no one else could tolerate someone as intrinsically selfish, self-centred as her.
This is not to infer that I was her best friend every day in the week. No. If anyone came along that she wanted to impress, I was dropped. Only when there was no one else would I be recycled.
Anyway, she decided to marry a rich older man from Primary school. She added reasons as she got older,
She loved money, so it was no surprise she wanted a rich man; an older man so that "When I'm Forty, he'll be over Sixty and I'll still look good to him."
She married the older man, the rich older man. I loved my shoes more than she loved him. In fact she was so uninterested in him that she never cared where he was, when, so there was no questions. If he came home at six or ten, she never asked him where he was. She asked him about his business, about anything.
Her conversations concerned spending his money. She had a helper and a cook, and had him send her to school so she could get a job he arranged for her with one of his big friends. She lived at her job because she never wanted to go home, unless she was having a dinner or party.
After about seven years, he wanted children, and she decided okay; I'll give him two and done. So she gave him two. He had to hire a nanny, because she was busy and didn't want her mother to move in.
Pris didn't want her mother there either, which is why she suggested it.
She was as interested in her kids as she was in her husband. However, just as with her husband, she was able to emulate the 'perfect' wife and mother.
Her husband adored her, her kids worshipped her, and she lived her life as if she were absolutely free.
Her kids went to school, then extra lessons and tennis, piano, swimming, whatever could keep them away from the house until five, so could provoke her husband hiring a chauffeur.
By the time Pris was forty, her husband was a tired sixty three, who had retired, but she found him part time work somewhere making him believe that he couldn't just stay home.
Her kids were packed off to University as they graduated High School, getting a very brief vacation, because it was important they get used to the new environment and prepare in advance.
Now unlike all you wives you worship your husband, and work at your marriage, unlike you parents who wrap your existence in your children, Pris was interested in Pris and nothing else.
Which is why she is held up as a goddess to other wives and mothers.
This is not to infer that I was her best friend every day in the week. No. If anyone came along that she wanted to impress, I was dropped. Only when there was no one else would I be recycled.
Anyway, she decided to marry a rich older man from Primary school. She added reasons as she got older,
She loved money, so it was no surprise she wanted a rich man; an older man so that "When I'm Forty, he'll be over Sixty and I'll still look good to him."
She married the older man, the rich older man. I loved my shoes more than she loved him. In fact she was so uninterested in him that she never cared where he was, when, so there was no questions. If he came home at six or ten, she never asked him where he was. She asked him about his business, about anything.
Her conversations concerned spending his money. She had a helper and a cook, and had him send her to school so she could get a job he arranged for her with one of his big friends. She lived at her job because she never wanted to go home, unless she was having a dinner or party.
After about seven years, he wanted children, and she decided okay; I'll give him two and done. So she gave him two. He had to hire a nanny, because she was busy and didn't want her mother to move in.
Pris didn't want her mother there either, which is why she suggested it.
She was as interested in her kids as she was in her husband. However, just as with her husband, she was able to emulate the 'perfect' wife and mother.
Her husband adored her, her kids worshipped her, and she lived her life as if she were absolutely free.
Her kids went to school, then extra lessons and tennis, piano, swimming, whatever could keep them away from the house until five, so could provoke her husband hiring a chauffeur.
By the time Pris was forty, her husband was a tired sixty three, who had retired, but she found him part time work somewhere making him believe that he couldn't just stay home.
Her kids were packed off to University as they graduated High School, getting a very brief vacation, because it was important they get used to the new environment and prepare in advance.
Now unlike all you wives you worship your husband, and work at your marriage, unlike you parents who wrap your existence in your children, Pris was interested in Pris and nothing else.
Which is why she is held up as a goddess to other wives and mothers.
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