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| My mother in her twenties |
Fourteen years ago today my mother died. For many years we had a difficult time as mother and daughter. I did not want to grow up to be like my mother for I did not want to be a housewife, and I knew this from a very early age--like five. So I generally rebelled when it came to learning how to do home ec kinds of things--such as sewing (which she was very good at), and cooking (until I could do it on my own). I felt in so many ways like such a disappointment to her. I know she wished we could have been closer during my teenage years, but instead we argued and, when I was at home, I stayed locked up in my room, reading.
But though she did not fully understand at first the kind of woman I would grow up to be, when I look back I see how she encouraged me all along. When my father said,
Girls don't go to college, she took my side. So instead of home ec, I was able to sign up for Latin and algebra in high school. When my father couldn't imagine that I really was going to go to college, she drove me to the interview and we did not tell my father. When I was accepted, I shared the news with her, and her alone. After my father had a
