differently

i have always subscribed to the theory that those who love me, love my child. they are not in my life if they do not accept my child alongside me. this has always been the case. the tacit agreement being others are in my life to contribute a different color, fabric, or weft to my particular woof.

the hard part about this is, seeing patterns. patterns i, as the adult, had never believed possible. when my grams raised us, we obeyed. blindly in many cases, but with respect regardless. i understood this way of being. it was, and probably is, why i have such difficulty with authority and being an authority figure. it's a complicated bag for me baby.

on the one hand, i am not my grandmother. that is understood with much sadness, but much gratitude as well. i have had opportunity, education, experience far different than hers. i love and honor her way of being in the world and think she made castles out of crapcakes most of her life. hers was not an easy lot by any stretch.

the ease of someone's lot does not determine much, in my mind. we all have our own particular brand of burden. mine, may be far easier for you to carry, while yours may suit me just fine. which is why they are assigned to each her own. and by looking in on you and you looking in on me, we can

share the load,

as they say.

what perplexes me most, is perhaps the vast array of shit that can go wrong. i know about it. i understand it. i lived my teenage years in such a haze of confusion, i rejoice daily that my girl does not carry that particular burden. she has her own. which she handles, as you can imagine, differently.

so when i come to what i see as a crossroads. and i stand there, looking up one road and down another. baffled, i may be, but this i know. i have done my best. it has not been perfect, never could be. i have not been my grams, because i am not my grams. and curiously enough, i keep finding papertowels stuffed here and there, places i don't normally have papertowels. i am very utilitarian, and if something has a function, i use if for that amen. so the papertowel as tissue option is really not, for me. tissues are tissues. but today, when i drew a stowed papertowel from my coat pocket, i couldn't remember what had brought it there and said,

hi gramsy.

since i couldn't think of anything better. it had to be what it was. i don't tend to hang on to papertowels much past their designated service: wiping a counter, corralling mandarin rinds. yet, there it was. now as i lay here, contemplating everything parenting, gramsy, of course is the one that comes to mind. i want my child to turn out like she turned us out (though i know a lot of that is we turned out ourselves, but it's a nice thought). perhaps it's just wishful thinking. perhaps combined with some delusion. but these are the moments, in times past, when i would pick up the phone and call my gramsy. maybe, just maybe, she stashed the papertowel, so i would know she is still with me.