Much of my life’s work has been to do with processing my relationship with my mother - trying to understand who she is, why she is as she is, so I can reconcile pains that won’t leave me. I solved the murder of the love of her life, I wrote a book about the 18 years we spent together, and I’ve spent 9 years in Alanon churning and kneading and untangling generations of damage, looking for an answer. What I never expected was for the dynamic to change now, in adulthood. I thought we were done - the roles we played for eachother relatively set. I never imagined I would see myself in her eyes again. I couldn’t have dreamed of the best friend I had at 6 coming back at 36, but suddenly, this winter, there she was - The funniest, most original person I’ve ever known. The icon herself, cooking for me, washing dishes and planting a literal forest of tomato plants, back to make a new entry into my life as only a mother can. It took us a long time to become what the other needed: me, the disruptive surprise, and her, the writhing, ungraspable lightning bolt, but we’re here. She is a gift, which I am finally ready to receive. 🙏🏼