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“Have you ever discover something that made you question reality?”

I guess as a parent you really do view your children through “different” eyes. At least that’s what my mother called it. When she see’s an ugly baby/toddler in a beauty pagent/talent show she will always exclaim, “poor thing, it’s so ugly it’s cute!”

Let me explain my mother is Korean, so she has a distinct Asian wisdom behind her statements. I learned this long ago as she told me Korean “fairytales/fables” before bed, translation is a very sardonic mistress.

“Unquestionably the Hans Christen Andersen of Korea: she had spun webs of reality where baby frogs buried their mother by the sea shore out of love and sisters were washed ashore still embracing after being lost at sea.”

Very heavy material for a four year old, but always with a lesson. Love comes at a price: hard work, patience & usually some type of suffering, just for good measure, lol.
I remember always wondering why all her stories were so sad. Many times while telling the stories she would cry. I always wondered if she was crying because she was sad the frog’s mommy died. Didn’t she know it was only make believe?

As an adult I realize that maybe that’s not the reason she is crying. I came to this realization at 4 am, after opening a box of Pizza my son Jeffrey had ordered for lunch. I haven’t been sleeping well worried about work/economy/election/Jeff and especially my mom’s recent strokes, so I figure the pizza will put me in carb coma for at least a few hours.

“Sausage & pepperoni?” I mutter as I open the box.

Who could have possibly have ordered this I wonder?  Jeff had. “So my son’s favorite pizza is actually sausage & pepperoni…after all this time” I mentally review. Jeff always tries to make people happy so he “goes with the flow,” in most situations. I realize I do the same by always ordering a pizza I think he likes. The Danish irony is, we are both eating pizza that’s not our favorite & pretending it is to make the other happy.

As I took a bite of Jeff’s pizza, I thought about how scared I still was about losing my mom. This pizza was a perfect example of what she always conveyed in her bedtime stories. I realized that those last few nights in Denmark actually put me in my mother’s shoes for once. I was a strange person in a foreign land, surrounded by people speaking a language foreign to me, missing my mother & family who could be ill or even dying, but tied steadfast by the love for her husband.

“By the second bite, I knew why my mother always cried when she told me bedtime stories….”

Telling me bedtime stories was the one time she felt safe sharing her fears, joys & pain. In her web of reality she would weave the pain of missing her mother, fear of her possible death, joys of motherhood and hopes for tomorrow. I realize now her children were possibly her only audience at the time due to the huge cultural gap & racial prejudices. Fairy tales are the perfect way to explain grown up thoughts to tiny minds & still have a happy ending.

My mother always ended her stories by telling me she loved me and that she wished my grandmother were here to see me. “She’d go crazy if she see’s you,” she’d say because we were all so beautiful/smart/good. That was her way of saying, “totally overcome with emotion.” *Giggles

“Reality is perception. I realize life really is a circle. I am my mother and my mother was me. I still have so much to learn and teach but wonderful mentors to guide me.”

I throw the rest of the pizza in the trash. It’s served it’s purpose and fed both my body and mind.
“I’m going to ask more questions and actually listen more.” I promise myself. I don’t want to regret what I didn’t do or say. I want to try to “walk in the other persons shoes more.”
I click off the kitchen light.

“I am truly blessed…each time I look at my mother’s smile or see her eyes in my son, I thank GOD for making me a part of their lives.”

Kisses Kimber

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