Confessions Of A 67-Year-Old Daughter To Her 88-Year-Old Mother

Dear Mom: You'd think by this time in my life, I would stop having secrets from you. Ha. You'd think by this time in my life -- having reached the empowered age of 67 -- that I'd stop withholding information from you. Ha. Though the reason has changed, the practice has not.
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tommasolizzul

Dear Mom,

You'd think by this time in my life, I would stop having secrets from you. Ha.

You'd think by this time in my life -- having reached the empowered age of 67 -- that I'd stop withholding information from you. Ha.

Though the reason has changed, the practice has not.

I used to hide things from YOU to protect ME; now I hide things from YOU to protect YOU.

Here are a few things I never told you:
I threw away every package of carrots sticks you ever packed in my lunch. Well, not every. A few I gleefully traded away for Hostess Twinkies.
On sleepovers, I was always the last one to bed, the earliest to rise and the fastest guzzler of Coke in the group.
Every morning after closing the front door, I rolled up my skirt to make it shorter before boarding the bus to junior high school.
In high school, I left the house every morning with a freshly scrubbed face and hair in a girlish pony tail. Immediately upon entering my school's front hall, I headed for the girl's bathroom, where I put on globs of mascara, blue eye shadow and coral peach blush. And teased my hair into a bouffant, highly lacquered mess.

After I got married and had the kids, I withheld even more.
I never told you I allowed my sons to hang glide, mountain climb, play tackle football, and back pack through Asia.
I never told you I let them pack their own lunches, drive on the freeway at age 16 and that I turned my back on more than a few of their teenage antics.
I never told you I cringed at their college GPAs. Screamed at them for binge drinking. Worried myself sick over their spring break travels -- all the while telling you tall tales of their well-being.

So mom, one last confession before I board the plane to Europe for my first transatlantic flight: I know I assured you that after the Charlie Hebdro murder and kosher supermarket slaughter in Paris that I had changed my travel plans from France to Italy. But I didn't. Don't be mad.
Truth be told: two months ago I was in a near miss head-on collision just five blocks from my house. I never told you.
Truth be told, I went to have dinner with a friend at a nearby upscale mall just minutes after a massive robbery had taken place there. Mass panic ensued among the shoppers, resulting in injuries. I never told you.
Truth be told, you can't keep me safe anywhere.

YOU can't protect ME, just like I can't protect YOU -- from the caprices of nature, the ravages of aging, the random accidents, the necessary losses of loved ones.

Chances are great that I'll come back unscathed and safe.
And if I don't? Well, one more confession: I love you and you are the best mom ever.

For more Iris: http://www.facebook.com/chicktalk4boomers
http://www.irisruthpastor.com
http://www,americanisraelite.com/archives/category/incidentally-iris

Earlier on Huff/Post50:

What Is The Most Random Fact That You Have Never Forgotten?

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