Thursday, August 02, 2007

Mother and Daughter Senior Year

For a time, maybe two weeks, after leaving my father the weekend of my Yale audition, my mother stayed at her sister’s house where we had gone after the first escape attempt so many years before. After those two weeks she apparently felt she was in the way, or it may have been that her family was pushing her to return – as they had ten years previously. Whatever the reason my mother needed to get away from there and the only place to go was to me. At school.

Because I had a single room, one of the perks of being a senior, it wasn’t going to bother a roomate if I had my mother come visit for a few days so naturally I went and picked her up at her sister’s place and brought her back to the dorm with me. It was kind of fun to have the company, and I was so thrilled she was away from my father that I wasn’t actually thinking of the ramifications of having my mother staying with me in my dorm room. Obviously I wasn't thinking clearly.

Along with the single room I had my own bathroom, which was a dream come true after years of having my father banging on the bathroom door while I was spending endless hours trying on makeup. So the room situation was really ideal for having one’s mother visit… IF you were the mother.

She stayed with me for maybe two weeks. Which is a REALLY long time. A really long time especially as they were the last two weeks of my senior year. This was supposed to be a time of unbridled partying and fun amidst the final exams. Having my mother sharing the room put something of a damper on the ‘party’ aspect. Not that she was a problem, really. She was a lot more open minded than other mothers might have been, but I did feel I should at least attempt to not go out and return home sodden in alcohol and praying to the porcelain god. So I basically had a conscience living in my fabulous dorm room with me and spending my final carefree college days watching my every move.

Of course, in retrospect it becomes clear that her support of my going away to college was to set the stage for her own escape. Once I was 'out there' she would have a safe haven. Was I happy she’d left him? Of course. Was I resentful that I had to suffer for it? Absolutely.

1 comment:

Salty Miss Jill said...

Joy, you've been tagged! Go see!