I look just like her. I laugh like her and I hear her voice when I speak. Wow. I swore I’d never be anything like her, but here I am nearly 50 years old and I’m physically a miniature version of my mother. I’m ok with it because not everything about this woman I called mom, was a monster. She was funny at times and soft spoken. I hate a loud voice. Hers was hardly ever loud. There wasn’t much yelling at all. And she sang quite well.
I hope beyond anything I never have her paranoia. I’ll save that for another entry.
I remember quite a few positive things and benign attributes about my mother. Interestingly enough, those are not what keeps me up at night or that causes nightmares and fighting in my sleep. However, there is a part of me that wants very much to remember the good in my mother. To that end, I purchased a small token she would have liked.
The African Bush Elephant was her favorite animal. If there was anything that I could have had of hers, after all this time, it would be one of her elegants and a giraffe.
I purchased this small planter because it combines one of the things I love, plants, with one of the things she loved, elegants.
Today Dr D and I discussed placement of the elephant. I should not be able to see it from my bed. It would cause too many issues. I’ve got the perfect spot and the perfect bamboo shoots for it. It should be all right. If for some reason there’s high emotion related to the figurine then I know where I’ll store it for a while, until I can deal with it again.
This purchase has been a month in the making. I finally made it today, after a nice therapy session.