Page 26 of Petite Fleur

I wonder what that's like…

My mom acts like she always wants to see me. She plays the part of a loving parent very well when people are watching.

It's just not who she really is.

I surprised her last Christmas after she complained for months that I hadn't visited in a while, and she was annoyed from the minute I walked in the door.

Why didn't I call first?

The house was clearly a mess; she could have cleaned it up if I had called first.

Why did I decide to come home for Christmas of all holidays?

I skipped Thanksgiving, the holiday she would have preferred so she wasn't alone with all those calories and no self-control.

Why did I bring laundry?

I should have known better than to expect to use the washer and dryer at my family home, but I also should have known better than to ask for quarters for the laundromat.

Why didn't I bring a boy?

Why do I never bring a boy?

The never-ending list of grievances by my mother made my entire visit miserable.

Nothing has ever and will ever make her happy when it comes to me.

I'm too skinny, I'm too picky, cooking for me is annoying, I'm too quiet, my major is stupid.

I can never win.

I think the last time I spoke with my mother, she wouldn't stop telling me that the neighbor's daughter is in medical school and her brother is going to be a lawyer. A woman at work, herdaughter is marrying an engineer, all while I'm studying botany, and have never brought home a boy.

I never measure up, so I stopped trying.

I stopped putting effort into a relationship with my mom when the time for us is clearly long gone.

I stopped letting her disappoint me and make me feel small.

I refuse to let her push her own insecurities and inadequacies onto me.

That's why I chose to leave Louisiana for college; I needed a few states between us for a while—maybe forever.

My only grievance is the heat.

I couldn't escape it in Louisiana and haven't been able to escape it here, but I prefer the heat when the alternative is the blistering cold.

My grandma took me to New York one year for New Year's, and it was horrible!

There was snow and ice over every inch of the road, the cabs slid around, and I'm convinced we only didn't crash as some kind of favor karma owed me.

I saw a car crash at least once a day while we stayed, and our plane was delayed when a massive snowstorm hit.

I can't fathom why anyone would willingly choose to live where the wind hurts your face, but I bet people say the same thing when they get down here and deal with the heat.

Heck, I've lived with the heat my whole life, and I still sweat when I go outside.

I still dream of living somewhere that feels like a lovely, cool fall afternoon every day.

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