Sometimes I glimpse substitute mothers.
At six thirty, during my morning walk, I often see an elderly Asian woman who practices tai chi on her balcony. At first, we exchanged glances, which became little waves. Now we wish each other a good day like old friends. This type of delightful, casual contact fills me with joy.
I interacted for a while with one of my father’s friends. We wrote to each other through social media; she continually sent pictures of her children and grandchildren, which surprised me a tad. Still, I felt happy for her.
One day, she thought it necessary to make me see reason about my own life. I had to understand: being a mother wasn’t easy. I ought to show sympathy, leniency. I told her more, so that she could build a better-informed assessment, but she kept at it.
What gets me in these cases is that the compassion is directed toward the aggressor. It’s a bit like when a bomb explodes and kills people. Some individuals pass by the “consideration for the victims” phase and go directly to “beware of stereotyping.” It is indeed crucial not to lump everyone together. Not to band people by origins, religion, or work. However, I think it is acceptable to sorrow for the victims.
Yet my father’s friend showed compassion only for my mother. Not a single consoling word to me, not even a measly It must have been hard for you at times. Nothing. I pondered the generous love she so naturally expressed for her family. I thought about her pride and her goodwill concerning them. The difference in attitude made me uncomfortable; it was as if I were dirty, at fault. I pulled away.
Through volunteering with young children, beyond the fun of playing and the awe, I have proved to myself that I can be patient and gentle and set small limits for them. Cohabitation with a kitten also allowed me to establish that I can act in a calm, caring way.
By keeping my distance from people who don’t respect me, I vouch for my serenity. Is that too strong a word? I look it up. [RESPECT. The process of honoring someone because of the value one recognizes in them.] Ultimately, there is a mom I can trust.
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