Hosting

Well I’ve been hosting my ma for the last two weeks and I’m so tired and frail and happy that she really exists! I understand that I “ran away from my problems” and I understand that was selfish to leave my family out of my grief process, but I needed the time. And I guess part of me knew while I was there that she would be here when I needed her to be.

 

My mom emailed to say she was coming to Rome and if I didn’t tell her how to find me, she’d wander the streets screaming my name until I popped out of some doorway somewhere. I couldn’t live with the mental picture of my cute old mom LOOKING for me. It reminded me of a time when 6-year old me lost her in a grocery store and asked a staff member to find her. She must have been terrified then and I wasn’t even dying yet! Not in any direct, literal way, anyway.

 

So I gave her my address and laid in bed waiting. When I heard her ringing the bell, all of my emotions busted out through my face and I answered the door (after the eight minutes it took me to get down there) and saw all over her face, immediately upon opening the door, how terrible I looked. Sure, I was wearing lots of beautiful little beads and baubles and FELT beautiful, but goddamn I didn’t look it. She looked terrified.

 

I feel fine. I feel fine. I kept telling her how fine I feel.

 

She was not convinced.