Let the boys grow in the trees

Oh dear.

My moma's birthday is tomorrow. Don't worry, I got her a gift and it will be delivered on time. I hope she likes it. She is kinda hard to buy for. Moma. She'll be 58 which seems incredibly young to me. Exactly 30 years my senior (and add a few months). I am always becoming my mother. Which is fine. I accept it, open arms, whatnotrot, but it's strange bc she's my moma. Not me. So that means I don't ever really get to be me. Which I am. I am very different in lots of ways from my mother. But not any that really matter when the pot's boiled down. Is this a good thing? Like I said, open arms. It's just a strange thing. To get older. Who am I?

So moma ages. You know my dad, my dearly beloved old dad, in some ways I'm closer to my dad than my mom but I still have no idea how old he is. 60-something? 62?63? I really have no idea and it's not like I'm going to start writing it down. My mom's birthday, I have to know bc well selfishly, it's easy to remember for some reason. But more than that, it's she I'm becoming. But my dad, my dad who I wish and actually try to be more like, mom's side always wins. I always end up being more like mom than dad. And in this, dad is second. He gets second place. He's not less important. He's just not mom.

I don't really know how I feel about this. Yes I do. I feel fine. I love my parents. I guess it's harder for me to think on them growing old and since my dad will always be older than my mom by some years, I just assume things. Those quiet, cobwebby things no one likes to talk about. So in pretending. Let's just not exist. I don't have to worry about it. And in not worrying about it, I can't even spare the brain room for it.

Ah it's weird. I should have taken more advantage of those times when I was just a girl hanging out with my parents. I should've fought less and listened more.