Mothers. Daughters. It’s so complicated. I just finished having a huge fight with my daughter, well, one of my daughters (and the fact that I feel I must mention that to avoid slighting anyone says much). Anyway, back to the daughter I have been fighting with. About what, you ask? I don’t know. I was there the whole time, but I swear, I’m really not sure. My feelings are very hurt though. Right now I’m not sure things will ever be the same. It was that kind of a fight. A world changer, wherein at least one of the combatants is so damaged that they cannot return to their previous state of being. We are actually very close. Sometimes I think we are so tuned in to each others’ emotional temperature that we read signals that aren’t even there and take personally things that are really directed toward the larger world, rather than at each other. I watch all this take place between her and her daughter also (her daughter is 12, a prime age for fighting) unable to interject anything that does not act as gas sprayed into an open flame. Due to this recent confrontation, I don’t feel I’ve even the right to offer advice, since I, obviously, have no insight into the prevention of such conflagurations.
So, here I am, more than 700 miles from home, having just fought with my daughter who I am suppossed to be helping recover from minor surgery. Watching her fight with my granddaughter, and feeling as if I am bleeding to death from millions of tiny paper cuts and one lage stab wound to the heart…



  1. July 8, 2013 at 9:45 pm

    Awwww. What a tumble of emotions that brings on. Hugs, big hugs.

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