The First Woman

My mother claims it was the instant in which our eyes first met,

her- still disoriented from the C-section and me- no bigger than a loaf of bread,

That it became clear to her that I was not from this planet.

There has never been a time where she told the story of our meeting differently,

Never a time in which she didn't claim,

I had been sent to teach her and she to learn from me,

Not the other way around.

I was very possessive of my mum in my early childhood,

I didn't like it when she and my father kissed

and tried to separate them on every occasion.

I would creep into their bed at night and gently push and poke Dad

with my feet, until he'd leave to sleep on the couch

and Mum and I were alone.

She told the worst bedtime stories because she'd get too creative

and I liked hearing them in a very specific way.

 Sometimes she'd even fall asleep while telling them and begin rambling

or describing her dream. She was, however,

very good at reading to me and introduced me to

Heidi, Pippi Longstocking and Harry Potter.

I wasn't allowed to watch a lot of TV, but my mum

orchestrated other activities.

We'd cut up magazines and make collages.

We had fashion shows and singing competitions.

If dad was involved, he's lose and sorely. 

She let me scribble on the living room walls, because she liked my drawings.

Occasionally, we also watched cartoons and movies.

I almost had a heart-attack when we watched Bambi and Ugly Duckling,

crying my eyes out for hours.

When I got older, I started comparing her to other parents.

She had my hair cropped short at the hair salon,

so that I'd be easier to maintain.

Other girls had long hair and their mums knew how to braid it.

Unlike the other mums, she didn't wear make-up

and her clothes were strange, too unique in a non-feminine way.

She travelled a lot. Other mums stayed at home.

Her cooking was macrobiotic, which I did not enjoy.

I brought healthy sandwiches with rock-hard, brown bread and

a bit of butter and cheese to school.

Other kids had white bread, mayonaisse, salami, Nutella

or lunch money for pizza slices at the cafteria.

When she was angry, she would take away my already slim TV rights

for a week or two weeks and other parents would only do it for a day.

 She yelled when she was upset. I didn't like yelling.

I was always too different than everyone else and thought it was

a flaw, a wrong-doing which she was to blame for.

At 12 I rebelled by listening to boy-band pop (my mother liked punk),

By deciding I wanted nothing to do with arts and culture, which she

was in buissness with. I told her I'd be a middle-school teacher

and have a traditional kind of family, who I'd always cook

white-flour meals for. I expected her to be baffled.

She told me that whatever made me happy was fine

and even listened to the One Direction CD with me in the car.

I didn't want to be different from the other kids and the other families,

but it didn't take long for me to start noticing the differences as an

advantage. As a teenager, I noticed that unlike most other parent

I could talk to my mum about boys, crushes, relationships, sex.

She didn't forbid drinking or going to parties,

but made sure I knew what balance was.

She pushed me when I need to be pushed,

but never out of selfish reasons.

If  I was grounded, she would ask

if I understood why, what was my mistake.

She included me in family decisions,

I always felt I had a voice and a vote.

We went to the cinema together, to the theatre, to galleries.

If money was tight, she'd tell me, but still, find ways to treat me

to something occasionally; maybe a cappucino at a coffee shop I liked

or having my favourite food for lunch.

We celebrated each of my successes, no matter how small.

She kissed me every day. Hugged me.

When I left the house each moring, the last thing

I'd hear on the doorstep was

„I love you!“

She told me: „I have never had a teenage daughter before. This is

all new to me, so sometimes I might make a mistake.“

She had a life besides being a mother. It was when I discovered

her as a person and not just mum, that the sight of her gained a

new dimension.

She was a tigress who fought for what she believed

in, even when it harmed her personally.

Her ideals and standards were high.  

Sometimes she was too uncompromisable in enforcing them.

Often she stepped on toes. Caused problems.

Always for the right reasons.

Not always in the right way.

She said she didn't like it when kids worshiped their parents too much,

it was unhealthy. 

Regardless, I was already in awe.

It would fade when she made me clean the bathroom on Sundays,

or drink Miso soup in the morning,

but could never be terminated.

My mother is , doubtlessly, not flawless,

But the way she deals with her faults that has built her into a

higher being in my eyes. Celestial.

And even though she,

as vigourosly as on the day of our introduction,

still believes I came from outter space to be her teacher,

I think that, after all, it just might be

the other way around.