Mother.

I never really thought about my relationship with my mom. We argued a lot, always caught in this  kind of quiet competition. We don’t live together anymore, but one summer afternoon, I found myself flipping through old family photo albums. In one of them, I stumbled upon pictures from our first trip to Universal Studios.

Something about those images pulled me in. So I suggested we go back—step into the same places, hold those memories up against the present. I wanted to see how her recollections lined up with what was still there.

After the trip, I saw something new in my parents—something different. Maybe I recognized a piece of it in myself too, but I couldn’t quite put it into words. I guess I still can’t.

Mother.

I never really thought about my relationship with my mom. We argued a lot, always caught in this  kind of quiet competition. We don’t live together anymore, but one summer afternoon, I found myself flipping through old family photo albums. In one of them, I stumbled upon pictures from our first trip to Universal Studios.

Something about those images pulled me in. So I suggested we go back—step into the same places, hold those memories up against the present. I wanted to see how her recollections lined up with what was still there.

After the trip, I saw something new in my parents—something different. Maybe I recognized a piece of it in myself too, but I couldn’t quite put it into words. I guess I still can’t.

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