Reach out and Touch … Your Mom

Since I’m out of town, I planned to write this blog on my laptop but technology hates me.  And the feeling is mutual.   I could not connect the laptop to the internet so I’m forced to use the computer in the hotel lobby and I’m not sure how coherent this blog will be. And my daughter is a tough act to follow.

I am so proud of Alli’s blog I could explode.  I’d love to tell her this but I cannot get her on the phone.  For the past 2 days.  I could explode from that, too. And this is not an isolated incident.  At one time I used to take this as a personal rejection.  But not anymore–since I’ve compared notes with her father, her brother, and her friends.  I think it must be easier to get through to George W. Bush. Not that anyone would want to.  I’d much rather get through to Alli.

In case you read this before you call me, Alli, here’s the headline:  I hope you’ll continue writing.

I would have said a week ago that one of the rewards of blogging is for my children to read what I would write.  I couldn’t have guessed the best reward is to read what one of my children would write.

To my knowledge, the last creative writing Alli did was a story published in her high school literary magazine. Her English teacher/ college advisor might be as happy as I was to read her blog.  He was dazzled by her talent, and when she didn’t go to college right out of high school, he was disappointed.

I was far more than disappointed; I was devastated and distraught.  Which is OK.  What was not OK is that I had so much difficulty accepting Alli’s choice.  But then, I wasn’t accepting about most things, and especially not about people, even those closest to me.  Which makes this maybe a good moment to point out to a casual observer that my attitude was not always hunky dory.  During cancer and everything else.  I don’t want anyone to miss the truth– that I’ve changed.   Like maybe we all do in time.  Enough to recognize and to write about lessons learned.

In fact, I did write an article about what I learned regarding Alli and college.  Some people said they wished they could have been as tolerant of their own children in the same situation—but I was writing with the benefit of perspective, hindsight…and therapy.  I think  most of us can’t see the forest for the trees when we’re lost.  It’s always easier to see what you missed, once you’ve found your way.

I didn’t mean to get philosophical sitting here in a hotel lobby with a football game on TV and boisterous kids all over the place.  Maybe because I am on a college campus right now, I am thinking back to the time when Alli rejected college.  6 years later I understand Alli’s choice—and admire the fortitude and strength it took for her to follow her own path.  Although I do wish she’d call me so I can tell her how proud I am.