The life-long question we try to answer: Who am I?
To a large extent, I’ve been shaped by my mom. Her way of being in the world is what seems normal and right to me. Enculturation by word and deed. I still swim in her reality, even though I left home more than 50 years ago.
And she surfaces in my home today. My mom was a ball of energy and got jobs done lickety-split, allowing herself a ten minute nap with the minute minder ticking. In contrast, my mother-in-law went about life more gently, punctuating work with rest. Realizing this difference has defused some of the little tensions that arise in my family.