Musing

today’s Musing written and published from south Calgary, near Fish Creek Park

walk report: -2C/28F, light cloud in the east, otherwise clear, calm; Gusta anxious to run, feeling restrained . . anxious to meet that Scottie off in the distance – my mind is somewhere else, I’m not paying attention to the roofer separating old shingles from their roof or the complexities of life in the houses on these streets – surely none are like mine

most things in life are choices, but we get the mother we get – no baby has a choice; safe to say that on the ‘respect and adore your mother’ scale of 1-10 that I would register minus-3; my experiences and feelings have always been far removed from what people say or write about their mothers – not that she was inhumane or neglectful in my formative years, but she left me with a legacy of being more like her than I can easily acknowledge

difficult things don’t scare me, near-impossible challenges intrigue me, but this one I find impossible to extricate myself from its clutches; like fingerprints or snowflakes, there are no two mothers alike and probably no two mother-child relationships alike

two kinds of mothers populate the world – our own and everyone else’s; mine - peculiar, unique and yet probably not that different from her genre; born in the 20s, experienced a depression, a world war, product of her homesteading family, raising kids in the 50s; unread, unschooled and unprepared – but was she truly unprepared for motherhood or just unprepared for someone like me?

elements of me are like her, others - I am absolutely opposite, revelations of how much I wanted to be different – but wait, what I really wanted was for her to be different; so few peaceful moments – angst and argument would not let them in; I’ve examined my inventory of failed relationships – wondering if I have too often mixed unresolved ‘mother’ issues with the process, looking too hard for someone unlike her enough to be ‘great by definition’ or someone more like her so I can toil in futility to ‘get it right’ with someone else - hopeless question with no hope of a satisfying answer

a counselor coached me to work things out myself as it become clear I could not work things out ‘with her’; that worked in a perverse way for a couple of years but we would still get into a hissing match now and then – then we had an uneasy truce for a few years, but for the last nine years it has become more one-sided (as the counselor encouraged)

I’ve worked on this relationship alone; at times enlightening when I’ve had some very productive conversations with my dad that have added perspective – we’ve talked lots – but mostly it has been a perverse mix of understanding some things better mixed with ‘never understanding’ others; some are questions I could never ask her or, when I have, I can never get a satisfying answer – none have produced a peaceful moment

nine years ago this morning I saw her laying there – oxygen tube gone, room quiet, chest motionless – not breathing, talking or railing against life, her body surrendered to silence of death; I don’t remember – ever – a more peaceful moment with her; certainly there have not been any between us since

Mark Kolke
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... with your voice, teach in order to learn


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