The last two partners I had in my life thought I
needed a family, but they were wrong. I wanted to live with them, I
liked them to be involved in my life, but not the way they thought
they wanted me involved with their loved ones, because these weren´t
a must in my personal relationship with the woman I loved. I liked
their children, they were kind enough with me and perhaps much more
than my owns children, but I disliked the last ones wanted me to be
in a close relationship seeking their approval and, additionally,
taking care of their parental need$:
That´s their father´s role, it wasn´t mine and ain´t good at it.
The people I like to be with are those I had a
regular fellowship of ideas, sharing of thoughts or situations we
somewhat sought and liked. Today I don´t have a deep relationship
with my mom. I will not say I love her
to die, because it is not that way and
I care too little you think it differently, saying I must be a
Christian or any of your Bla, Bla, Bla, because the one I had as a
trustworthy friend was my dad, yet this last 3 or 5 years my mom has
shown me a lot of things she has lived or experienced as a human
being with her lovers or my dad.
I think I liked my dad because we had some habits
in common, for listening to the music or enjoying reading and these
things are quite opposite to those my mom has. I can listen to her
things, her life stories, but these aren´t deep or thought provoking
neither things I really enjoy listening too. She´s been hurt a way
I don´t understand. She keeps counting records of old wrongs, she
points out other´s faults and I don´t remember hearing her saying
“Thank you!” or When I talked with my dad, I poured myself with
him but, with my mother I don´t find an understanding, a safe
sharing of feelings that, at my age, I don´t know what´s really
missing between us.
I can listen to her, not more than an hour. When
she tells me her dreams, many are a nightmare and I see her mind
mingled in passed sorcery, mystic divination, her fears or hatred
things that I prefer to drift from what she´s actually saying.
Somethings we laughed, but nothing is deep or profound that I´m
puzzled what we really missed.
Sometimes I remembered episodes I retold her. We
usually remember dead members of her family, we briefly laughed at
those things we´re reminded but, I feel that coldness I don´t know
where it comes from neither how it´s there in between.
My sister came to visit her and there were more
than 3 people gathered inside her bedroom. My sister asked my to be
laid her bed, since her children were on it and I was the only one
practically isolated and, if I wasn´t that reluctant, I knew my mom
will not celebrate I sat in her Queen-size mat: My sister knew it and
there was a dog at her bedroom entrance also. (She was kidding when
she invited me to “have a seat” there).
I remember how much I liked her. When I was a
child I liked her above all women I knew, because she was so
beautiful; but something happened I don´t know well. Each weekend I
wanted she visited my grandmother´s house and, obviously, she missed
us up several times when she went another place, when I and my
brother wanted to meet her during those days our childhood: She had
her life apart from us, yet we reunited when we grew up and old. Is
something missing here?
I don´t have deep love bonds with my family. The
one I often miss is Alex, the girl who adopted me as father and,
those I really loved (Josh & Joy) grew some another way I missed
that I can´t hug or meet as much as I had liked when they were kids
or teenagers: Elisha was not one of my favorite.
I can enjoy talking to strangers. I do like to
talk with people but I don´t know why I cannot talk to my children
with pure amusement or with complete entertainment. They´re so busy
in their own business that I chose to follow up mine, instead. Monica
asked me to do some effort to try to get them, somehow, but they
looked distant, self-centered in the music they like, that I need to
take their attention and bodies outside the places they normally live
and, perhaps, that thing has something to do with my mom´s, since
she likes the music I hate and the things I don´t do.
Whenever I´ve gone out with my mom, another
place, I have liked the time we spent at lunch or when I helped her
going to the doctor, she evenly insisted I should have eaten the same
things she ate, but these memories faded off when she turns on the
music or TV programs she likes to listen to... It seems there´s
something more secular than I am, that I really regret while I´m
here her home.
What were those things I didn´t like living with
Monica or with Legna?
With Nik it was the lack of personal privacy, my
personal space was invaded so easily... and with Flor she thought I
had to cope with her children, as if I needed their liking or
approval and both situations were slightly alike, at some extent.
I´m a hermit! But I like Alex´s kindness,
particularly when she demands nothing in turns.
PS
Last night, before I published this, Legna phone called me for 2 hours... She´s receiving a minor medical treatment and wants to move out there, while she´s writing the chapter 13 of her novel: Don´t look back, man!
