As many of you know, Redhead and I are mother and daughter. We have been in this relationship for coming up 70 years.
The other day, we had a war of words. I said that she was being short tempered and she accused me of being short tempered.
We, in short, argued.
We were in the car, driving down to get some groceries. As you all know, I have been " poorly " following a fall off a chair over two months ago. It was only my second outing since that catastrophic day when I landed on my back after climbing on a chair to clean my ceiling fans.
To be fair, I have been in a great deal of pain for the past 10 weeks. But, to be also fair, Redhead has been deprived of my company and the ability to boss me around during that time. She must be going through withdrawal and feeling the need of a " bossy fix " after so long without a victim of her maternal caring gene.
She has offered to come up and " help " me. I have politely declined. If my mother could see the state of my home, she would feel compelled to lecture me on the need to vacuum, clean and tidy - no matter the circumstance. In short, I should overcome the pain ( with a fractured sacrum ) and ensure that my home is always open to visitors at any time of the day or night. Such is her doctrine of life.
I watch a show called " Hometown " in Laurel, Mississippi. People love front porches and their homes are always open to guests. Huh! Not me.
My home is my home and no sucker ever walks in without advance warning and a return acceptance. No, my home is my castle and the drawbridge is up until I lower it if and when I choose.
Mum, on the other hand, is always " open for business. "
But back to the point of this article.
We sat in the car, driving to the supermarket and the air was chilly with angst and frustration.
Me - because I was in pain and sick to death of being unable to do what I normally do. Mum, because she is sick to death of being told what she can or cannot do.
Her Doctor has " retired " ( a man who hated masks and vaccines ) and she cannot get an appointment for her medication. There is an apparent shortage of Doctors.
There are insufficient medical practitioners to service the people in our area. She cannot feel comfortable in the knowledge that, after paying into private health care for so many years, she is not guaranteed the right to care.
In fact, one of her friends was suffering from a cough and sneezed, She was told to wait until she felt better before coming to the surgery.
No wonder we were feeling a bit cranky.
For me, 2 months of pain and knowing that if I called a Doctor, one would probably not come. And, even if one did, he or she would inject me with a poison I do not want or need. The dreaded vaccine.
We have seen too many friends and family die "unexpectedly " over the past year or more. Too many good and kind younger people suffer from myocarditis or pericarditis, stage 4 cancer and all without warning.
There was a time when we only read about strangers. Now, it is different. Not that it makes it easier or harder but more that it makes it more relevant.
We are facing the reality that is the aftermath of the vaccine mandates. The loss of people we knew, loved, and cherished.
And it makes it so much harder to handle and so much more impactive.
However, back to the day in the car.
It was a beautiful day.
The sun was shining, the Australian spring was in the air and the ocean looked like a vast expectation of calm. There were no storm fronts on the horizon and no clouds gathering to threaten a day of joy.
So, what was it?
WE WERE BOTH FRUSTRATED WITH LIFE.
Redhead gave me a blast. I gave her a blast. We argued and told each other that we were sick and tired of being told what to do.
Mum thought that I was being bossy and I thought she was being bossy.
We stomped around the supermarket and did not speak with each other. We were angry.
I dropped Redhead home and realised how blessed we were: WE could still argue.
Imagine that?
In a world where arguing is forbidden, we could sit in my car and argue?
These days, arguing is not allowed. It is deemed offensive. Or hate speech. Or racist. Or whatever someone decides it may or may not be.
It does not matter if Redhead or I were wrong. It does not matter.
It matters that we were able to argue and still care about each other at the end.
Redhead and I spoke later that day. I apologised. Redhead accepted my apology.
I am still waiting for her apology. She said that I will not get it.
She is my mother and she knows best.
Bugger!
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