All
Brigitte had time to tell Gwen was, " Sorry! Mom I
just enrolled in a 2 week program on advanced business management
strategies and skills. The course is starting today...at
9 sharp. Gotta move! ".
"
Be back at night...Mom! ", and she was gone, speeding
off in her expensive Lancer
That
was holidays.
Gwendolyn
sighed once again. She had made so many plans for the
next two weeks.
She
wished she had been like the other single mothers she
knew. They let nature handle the entire stuff...didn't
fuss over the kids, went partying...holidaying...having
a jolly good time.
But...how
on earth was she to cope with this....her 25 year old
daughter who spoke in monosyllables, refused to have the
same food that she had...no hamburgers for her, no chicken,
no meat, no cosmetics, no perfume, no rum, no wine...and
why for goodness sake, no boyfriends.
What
on earth was Briggie turning into...some kind of self
obsessed workaholic moron.
Gwendolyn
had a mind-brain coordination problem... In her mind frame
she hadn't grown up her daughter.
To
Gwen Briggie was still the photo-framed picture - sometimes
six, sometimes eleven....sometimes 13....sometimes 17
but never older than that.
Recently,
a new problem had come bounding into her life.
Often,
the last few months ever since she had seen a recent animation
movie on television, every time her daughter spoke to
her, the photo-framed picture from the living room would
morph it's way into her face and all she would see was
a five year old with two missing teeth, clinging to her
Barbie doll and hugging her, saying " I love you
Mom". This was crazy!
What
on earth was happening to Gwendolyn. Was she aging early?
With
her unconventional dress sense and her allergy to all
makeup and hair dyes, at 50, Gwendolyn could easily pass
off as a respectable 65 year old...Often, while walking
to the supermarket with her daughter in the university
campus where her daughter had studied, Gwen would be politely
greeted by the department clerks as Briggie's grandma.
Her
tangled silver hair was never in place.
She
had brought up her kid working at a bakery.
Her
batter beaten worn out palms and spatulate hands had kneaded
truckloads of yeasty dough to bake enough bread and cake
to see her daughter through high school and then an expensive
college...and then even upto graduate school.
Now,
armed with an MBA, Brigitte had landed a cushy job.
And
mom was beginning to feel like a forgotten bit of architecture
in Brigitte's action planning mind...That's how Gwendolyn
thought and felt.
When
the doorbell rang at ten that night, imagine Gwen's surprise
when she saw Brigitte holding out a beautifully decorated
basket with a happy pair of playful kittens…the
Persians she had always dreamed about.
Once
again, in Gwen's mind Briggie's face had morphed into
the six year old clutching this time a pair of kittens
and holding out her arm saying, " Love you Mom!".
