Hello...It's Been Awhile

 I am the oldest and only daughter of my parents. I have three brothers, ranging in age from 57 to 45. The eldest is a half-brother and we have never been close. The middle brother is nearest to me in age,  was at one time my close companion and he has always been my parents favorite child. The youngest has become a friend, despite the opinions of others.

I have not spoken to my mother in over ten years.

Let me rephrase that, I had not spoken to her in over ten years....before last Sunday at 3:30 pm in the afternoon.

It is said that, time heals all wounds. For me, I would say this is true. I no longer harbor any ill will towards a mother who could not and does not, love me. I have come to understand that her lack of affection for me has less to do with me and so much more to do with her.

Over the years I have wondered if she ever thinks of me. If she ever wanted to see me or speak to me. I gave up the fantasy that we would one day lay our differences down and accept the other for who they are. Still, I have never been able to push her too far from my mind. Even after ten years of silence.

My youngest brother told me that she and my middle brother wanted to talk. I found this odd, considering the last words spoken, so many years ago, made it tragically clear how they felt about me.

Liar
Opportunist
Bitch

I waited a full 24 hours to phone my mother. Youngest brother urged me to call her, but not middle brother. Middle brother is drunk by 9:00 am and surly. "No, don't waste your time on him...call her," he urged.

So I did. From the house phone, not the cell phone.

"Hello?"

Her voice was old, so much older than I remembered. Logically, I knew she would sound different, but it was still shocking to hear her voice...the voice of an old woman.

"Hi...it's Ann..."

There was a moment of silence. I wondered if her mind immediately knew who "Ann" was. I held my breath, what would she say? I could almost hear the wheels turning in her mind.

And then her voice changed. It morphed to the familiar voice of my mother -

"Ann WHO!?" she demanded. Disdain and anger throbbed across the phone lines.

I took a deep breath, wondering what to say. Wasn't she the one who wanted to talk? Wasn't she the one who reached out? It was then that I realized I had been played.

"Youngest brother said you wanted to talk, is this true?"

"NO!" she snarled.

"Am I disturbing you?" I honestly have no idea why I said this. Of course you are disturbing her you moron! She doesn't WANT to speak with you. She never did!

"YES!" she spat.

"I'm sorry to have bothered  you," I said, emotionless.

I pushed the end button and stood there. Afternoon sunshine filtered through the family room blinds. The dog chased one of the cats. Silence draped over me.

I felt ... nothing.

Certainly, as the evening hours grew, I felt a nudge of disappointment. My feelings are not worn so near the surface these days. These last few years have toughened me and taught me that my expectations of others are seldom correct. I've learned to simply let it go.

I can't make you love me....if you don't

In the days since my brief phone call with my mother I've learned a thing or two about myself. The purest and best is that I AM NOT MY MOTHER. I am not bitter and angry. I have forgiven and will continue to forgive. I've laid the pain of her rejection in the grave and buried it deep in the love of my children, husband and friends.

I feel sad for her. Sad for the choices she has made and continues to make.

My mother is 72 years old and not in good health. There may come a day, although I doubt it strongly, that she'll want to talk. If she does. I know what to say.

"Hi....it's Ann"