Common Strangers

"You remind me of my mom." Somewhere in the past decade or two, this has become the most common phrase I hear from younger adults. I began hearing it from older adolescants in the late 90's. Somewhere along the way it has become the opening line for small talk with middle aged adults. From my perspective, the only thing I am sure I have in common with all these women is that we havenae and willnae ever meet. I am okay with trusting that I do, indeed, remind these middle aged folks of their mother. Reminders live in the cognitive functions of the reminded. Trusting that I have much in common with all these mothers is another trust, entirely. Let me meet them, or at least know their non-mom names, before I trust how much of what we have in common. Believe it or knot, mothers have human variables. As important as my maternal identity is, there is more to my human nature than motherhood. I'll bet you dollars to wishes that your mama has a personality and life uniquely her own, also. Proof unavailable? I'll trust you to do the research. No, I donae care to fill out your questionaire. Let me trust you from a safe distance.

My job description here in the Urban Homestead remains as confusing as ever. Even more so within the divorce energies of 4 out of the 5 adults attached. The bonding with my grandchildren is the only piece of this equation which makes clear and simple sense. Insert either of the divorce talking parental units and. . . Ouch. . . Which soon-to-be-ex is exier? My instinct tells me it isnae safe to even witness the debate, much less speculate on who is victim and who is perpetrator. The contestants look as equal as generic mothers. Think I'll just let the mystery be. It isnae mine to sort. I donae find any of the plethora of ex-talk any more interesting than which bank of which river has the superior political flag.

Mine to sort is when to get back to the rivers. They call. . . In harmony.