Pinky on Parents

For the past couple of years, I have had the great honor of living with and in close proximity to my parents. My younger brother and I both feel very blessed to have been brought into the world by two individuals who we, and many many others, consider to be angels on earth. Yesterday, my mother had to endure yet another rotator cuff surgery to repair a reopened tear (damn dogs!)....There is nothing quite so humbling and jarring as the bedside observance of a parent in pain. I think that my emotional picture of my mother is fixed with her in her thirties, with a long brunette ponytail, encouraging my brother and I to hike/Xcountry ski/do homework/try something just a little bit more. Given that I am not even in my thirties any longer, this is obviously irrational, but just the same, I cling to this false idea of stasis. On the surface, I may appear to be fully self-actualized, but inside I still carry the little girl who believes in Joo Joo and the Green Slime (family horror story) and kisses make boo boos all better.