"CLICK...."
She sat, holding the receiver, wondering why.
Of course, this was not the first time.
It had been about 3 months since she last heard from her mother. Far too long, but inevitably what happened if she did not make the effort to be the one to get in touch.
She'd considered calling, even writing a letter, but she felt bitter and mostly also very hurt, and thus, she decided to wait. Wait for her mother to call her... for once.
Eventually, the phone call came. What she hoped for was some motherly care, concern, an enquiry about her well being, the well being of her kids. Instead, she was subjected to an avalanche of complaints, self-pity and misery. Again, of course, this also was not the first time.
"The exhibition was a disaster! Five months spent, sitting, painting 17 paintings... and what for? I tell you, it was an utter disaster, never had such poor sales before...."
"Well, what did you expect? We are in the middle of an economic crisis. People are losing jobs, losing their homes. Don't you think it's to be expected that very few people buy luxuries like paintings at this moment in time?"
"Do you have any idea how much work goes into 17 paintings??!! Five months, I tell you, Five months I have been painting for!!!"
"what about all us people who actually have to work in menial jobs for a living? What about those who clean toilets? People who work night shifts? People who have to do things which are a lot less enjoyable than painting, day in day out? Try, for a lifetime? What about them?"
"And anyway, why have you not called me?!?"
"Well, I am always the one who calls, you want to talk for over an hour at a time, and actually, while we are on the subject of the economic crisis, I am all but in a great financial state at this moment. It's an international call for me too. I don't see why I always have to be one shouldering the cost."
"You know my situation! I can't call you. It will cause trouble and fights. You know my husband won't have it."
"You know what? I'm sick of this crap about your husband. What are you? Are you his wife? Do you live in the same house, and aren't you supposed to have the same rights? If you want to call your kids, you should just pick up the phone and do exactly that! I would like to see any man trying to stop me from calling my kids! And you know something else? I have lived here for well over 11 years now, and I have had the honour of your company here at my house for exactly 11 days over those 11 years. Do you think that's normal??? I don't even live that far away. I know people who's kids have moved over to New Zealand and South Africa and they have seen 10 times more of their parents over the time they've been away than I've seen of you! How do you think that feels? Do you really think that inspires me to keep calling you?"
"Well, you know who's fault that is, you know wh..."
"Oh, don't you dare to say another word!! Don't even think of going there!"
"If your father had not le.."
"Oh, get over it will you!! That was 20 years ago! How dare you blame my father for the fact that you can't be bothered to come and see your daughter, he has NOTHING to do with that, NOTHING!! People get divorced en re-marry all the time you know! My dad is not responsible for your choices in life! He hasn't even got any influence over them anymore."
"well, I wanted to call now, and I was going to talk to you, but well, I don't feel like that anymore now!"
"CLICK ..."
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Hi my little chunk of rich Belgian chocolate.
ReplyDeleteThis really is a great piece. I loved it. Parents are such a liability, aren't they. I have a difficult relationship with my father, who it appears is on an ongoing mission to bring me back down to earth with a startling bump, no matter what!
We never get older than eleven in our parents' eyes, and I feel we are thus treated accordingly. You as a parent are probably guilty of this too, without realising it! I think it's an unconscious reaction.
Try not to take it personally, it's just the way it is. Brings to mind a poem by Philip Larkin. You can read it here: http://www.artofeurope.com/larkin/lar2.htm
It must have struck a chord with me as I rather took it to heart.
Keep on keeping on schatje!
Rudi
xXx
Thank you xxx
ReplyDelete(That poem is very true to life indeed, and rather apt in connection with my post! So I thought it deserves publication)
Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.
Your phoe call with your mother - and the feeling of not wanting to call her ratehr reminds of my relationship with my father. He could complain for England. He resented his life and lost no opporturtunity to let every around him know. This of course led most people (myself incuded) to stay as far away as possible. I once seriously considered a posting in Patagonia! Thats situation has changed in the last few months Its a long story) - but to cut it short we have buried some differences and leernt to be grateful for the good sides of our relatiohsip. I hope you can turn your situation around too.
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