Who Cares What Nansi Thinks?

My mother says things to me like, "WHEN you get diabetes, WHEN you get diverticulitis, WHEN you have a hip replacement, WHEN you end up old and broke...." She assumes that I will experience everything she has experienced. She feels my destiny is inevitable.

Is it?

Every condition my mother suffers is a result of lifestyle. Even her financial situation is a result of the lifestyle choices she and my father made throughout their lives.

I heard something interesting the other day. I was listening to Oprah Winfrey interview Eckhart Tolle on her XM radio show. They were discussing the evolution of life - from birth to death - and how our society is repulsed by old age. Mr. Tolle spoke of how we tend to closet away our old people and we don't appreciate their contribution to life. I can't say that I agree with him completely, but on the foundational concept, I concur.

Mr. Tolle advised that as we approach our end of natural life, we should stop concentrating on DOING and be content with BEING. Wow. He put into one sentence a concept I've been trying to impress upon my mother. It's not that I want her to be a lump and do nothing, but I'd like for her to be content when she's doing nothing.

The apostle Paul said, "I've learned that whatsoever state I'm in, therewith to be content." (Even Alabama???) Easy words, hard accomplishment. Mom keeps asking me why she can't relax. It's difficult to say. I watch her settle in, seemingly at peace, only to see her stir everything up again.

One Sunday I sat in the dining room with Mom and her friend, Geri. The two of them are known as "royalty" in the kitchen. They survey their dinner and don't feel it's a good day unless they've sent something back as "inedible" or my mother's favorite word, "gelatinous".

On this day, the meal was lovely. There was roast beef with gravy, a baked potato with sour cream and butter, Geri got her brussel sprouts and Mom got her steamed broccoli, both had tossed salads with cucumbers, boiled egg, tomatoes (sans salmonella), cheese and greens. For dessert there was baked apples and vanilla ice cream. Steam came off the plate when the cover was lifted.

Mom nervously surveyed every dish, touching, smelling. Then she stuck her chin out and said, "You wouldn't believe the slop they tried to make us eat yesterday!" Forgive me folks, but I just howled. There truly IS no pleasing Mom.

Why? I don't know. Maybe it's a habit. My son almost always says "What?" After I say something to him. I used to always repeat what I had just said, until I realized he wasn't really saying "what?" to me, but to himself. I find that if I don't repeat, he still responds. He just needs to process, and his habit is to say "what?"

Maybe Mom has developed a habit of discontentment. And she says I'll feel just like she does some day.

Will I? I already look like my mother did at 48. Will I act like she does when I'm 81?

I can't accept her premise. There is a litany of things that she did at my age that I don't do now. Mom and I have similar tastes and personalities, but our views on life are vastly different. I won't be so ridiculous as to say I envy my mother. On some level though, I wish I had time to sit and reflect, to read, to write, to engage with people my own age, without having a house to clean, a job to do, etc.

My fondest wish is that Mom can find peace. I think she already blew her chance at happiness. That Sunday meal was a microcosm of her life. She had it good--husband, children, home, church, and she spent that wanting more.

I watch my mother as if she were a harbinger of my own future if I'm not careful. I know how the roses smell. In my youth I watched Mom trample right through the roses in pursuit of the greener grass. I learned that the roses are here and can be counted on, and while taking in their scent and savoring it, the grass beneath my feet grows more lush and green. I realize I am in greener grass, and I love it.