Dreams For My Mother

There's a lot to be said for the guy that makes you blush, nervous and barf all over the place. Many believe there's no place for him in forever, but I'm not so sure. Many think you should wind up with the nice guy who says please and thank you, who will be a good father, and husband, never betray you or double cross you.

My mom met my dad when she was in her late twenties, an old maid at that time, but she had traveled the world and gone to college and graduate school by the time she met him. My dad was the pretty boy. Gorgeous skin, light eyes, curly brown hair and a smile that made women swoon. My mom couldn't stand to be too close to him for fear she'd spontaneously combust or melt, whichever came first. He was charming, loving, romantic, brought her flowers and candy. He wooed my mom and made her feel like the luckiest woman in the world. But my dad was swooning others, too. Well into my parent's marriage and after their twenty year union came to an end, my mom was convinced that the road less traveled was the one she had a first class seat on.

Mothers school their daughters on many things and while my mom taught me to believe in love, she also, without realizing it I'm sure, cast a pessimistic shade over it simultaneously. She didn't do anything or say anything directly in line with "your dad is a cheating asshole and love doesn't exist," but she always seemed to worry about my relationships. I'm a romantic, just like my dad and overly trusting, just like my mom. I know she feared I'd wind up with someone like my father, someone who would break my heart in a way that the pieces never found their way back to each other, but at the same time, she'd sometimes create issue where there was none. A boyfriend and I would have an argument and I'd call her for advice. At some point, she'd say something that would make me believe she hated whatever boyfriend I had at the time while planting seeds of doubt that would grow like Jack's beanstalk.

I'm not blaming her, though, know that, because at some point those boyfriends she hated, showed their true colors or just didn't work out. And whether my heart was mildly scathed or shattered to smithereens, each one left me ragged. I'd think it into the ground, deciding early on in life to conclude with hope and then later, as the break ups piled up, realize I'd rather have a V8. And yes, we do have to eventually let go of the past and move forward, but what's behind us lies ahead of us if we don't figure out a different traveling pattern.

I recently had a pretty long conversation with my mom and as she's gotten older, and hasn't remarried yet, she's softened. I think she forgives my dad now and she's much more gentle with her dating advice approach. Where there was once pessimism, is now a delicate balance between reality and dreams. She seems more hopeful yet again that a Prince Charming with manageable baggage and no giant red flags exists, for me at least. And I know she's well into her sixties now, but as she's running down a laundry list of why the last guy didn't deserve me anyway, I find myself running the same list in my head of why my dad didn't deserve her and how I'm still hopeful there's someone out there that'll make my mom blush again. And she'll have her place in forever just as she once dreamed.

That bitch stole my line,

xoxo

Blackie Collins