Jan 22 -- I am afraid of my mother. Okay, maybe not. But while that isn't entirely true, I have to admit there is a little kernal of truth in that statement. It's not really because of anything she does -- she's a wonderful woman who has been a very positive influence in my life. And she does so much for my dad, caring for his every need.
It's just that right now, In a way, I guess I am afraid of her. And I am not exactly sure why but I suspect I have a clue. It has to do with her crying.
Last week, after the mailbox incident, the town called me up and left a message (cowards!) about the broken mailbox. Apparently, they decided that the plow didn't directly cause the damage, it was the snow from the plow that broke my parents' mailbox and threw their daily mail distribution world into a such a tizz. According to town rule 87, section 4,678, that meant they wouldn't fix it for them. When I head the message, my blood ran cold. I was freaked. I couldn't; I absolutely could not call my mother with the news that the town wasn't going to fix the mailbox. With another storm coming, I knew we wouldn't be able to do anything about the mailbox anyway, so I balked. I just couldn't deal with hearing her disappointment and her apprehension about how she was going to keep my father calm when his beloved mailbox was stuck in a snow embankment outside.
So, I did the next best thing. I asked Brian if he could go over there to help them. And, after like two or three visits with repeat shopping trips to Lowes to purchase, return and purchase a new mailbox with an extra visit to his brother's to get a Sawz-All, he finally fixed the mailbox. Throughout the whole experience, I never called. It was weird. It was like I didn't want to tip the karma scale. I was afraid that if I called, there would be another issue on top of it all. And for some very weird reason, I wasn't feeling up to hearing about it.
I know why though. It was what Brian told me about the first day he stopped by to see what was up with the mailbox. I guess when he got there, my dad tried to come outside. The driveway was icy and he stubbornly wanted to come outside to look at the broken mailbox. My mom, who lives in mortal fear that he will slip and fall (and rightly so, he is quite feeble) was inside the house, upstairs, crying. I guess she had begged him not to go outside and (because he has Alzheimer's and truly cannot follow her logic) he stubbornly ignored her and went outside anyway. When Brian told me that, I froze. I felt so bad for her, for the situation, for the lifelong struggle that we have in our effort to control all only to realize we control absolutely nothing.
So I stopped calling her. Not one of my proudest moments but it is what it is. Brian, however, (God bless him!) called over there today to see how she and Dad were faring with the mail. And a good thing he did, because there was lots of ice near the mailbox and the mail hadn't gotten collected since yesterday. So Brian went over with Luke and chipped away at the ice until they had cleared a slightly less precarious path. I guess she asked him why I hadn't called. He told her, honestly, that I was very busy with a work deadline (which I am.) He did not tell her that I had temporarily misplaced their phone number.
I guess I will call her tomorrow. Because the truth is, I am not as much afraid of my mother as I am afraid to hear bad news. It's all part of life. I know that. I guess, for the first time in a long time, I just needed a break.
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