When I was first married, my mother sent along a recipe box filled with her favorite recipes, all handwritten in her familiar slanting cursive. It is the one thing of hers that I cherish most. I have a piece of her, her handwriting, an occasional Post-it note stuck to a recipe with additional helpful tips. It's as if she's still standing right there in my kitchen, a glass of wine in hand, and we're laughing about something silly we once did.
What does it mean to love pink, to feel that pull towards cuddling and dressing up dolls? Why did I think I had to choose between Jo March and Cindy Brady? Through many discussions with my women friends, I concluded that wanting to be a princess is about wanting to feel valuable and valued for who we are.
I tried to gain composure and looked at my mom through the tears in my eyes. She had been answering those questions like she was someone else. She has no clue that I have been the one paying her bills for the past three years! But, her rambling stopped when she saw that I was the one hurting, that I was the one who needed her.