These next two days are going to be a real rollercoaster. Tomorrow is my senior prom, and Sunday I am going to Washington, D.C. to visit with my older brother and sister, and my mom, who is back from Mali. Well, actually, they are all from Mali (West Africa) but I am the adopted one. I was an exchange student my junior year of high school, and this will be the first time I have seen my mom since I left the country. I spent ten months there, taking classes and traveling to little villages and learning a whole different way of living. I miss it, very often. It's a long story, but little bits and pieces of it will come through in this blog, I'm sure, because it has definitely changed my world view.
But back to my point. Mother's Day. Aba (that's my african mother's name) back to the states Thursday (yesterday). It has been like, twenty years or so since she has been here. I can't wait to see her--and she's going to meet my boyfriend! Since I have been with he same guy since I lived in her house, I know she'll be happy to meet him. More than happy. She actually had us silver engagement rings made before I left to go back to Virginia. It was the sweetest present anyone had ever given me.
I will not be seeing my real mother, though, at any point throughout the weekend. I don't know if she even wants to hear from me. I'm debating sending a card, but I really don't want to. Not wanting to... Makes me feel like a coward. It's so american of me, to be proud. One of the most important things I realized in Mali was that if someone deserved more respect than you, you let it go when they were upset, and tried to do everything you could to make it better. Apologizing was so common. I miss that, too. Just thinking about it, I know that Aba will be upset with me for not reconciling with my mother. In truth, I havent even spoken to my mother since the first week of March. The last thing she said to me was that I could never come back. In one way, it killed me, but in another, it helped me let go of all the guilt I had for being angry with her and her drinking problem. That's another thing that will keep me from seeing her--I hate seeing her drinking, and I bet that is all she will be doing this weekend, just like every other weekend.
I think saying you're sorry is like speaking another language. You can say it over and over and over again, but not right, and not really understand or mean it, but it's coming out of your mouth. And then one day, you say it, and it's gut-wrenching, and it clicks, and you mean it more than anything in that moment in time..
But on a happier note! Prom is tomorrow night. I'm going back to my home town, to spend the weekend with my amazing boyfriend and see my best friend, and old neighbors.
This weekend is going to be good, methinks.
(Has anyone ever read the Miller's Tale, from the Canterbury Tales? How perfectly awful--but I did laugh.)
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Prom's pretty fun. For guys though, it's kind of a let the girl do whatever she wants night. I went to the gym for my run and got dressed and changed in about 15-20 minutes, including shaving. I picked my date up, then realized I forgot the corsage. Yeah, hectic.
I made sure my boyfriend didn't forget the corsage by (gently) reminding him. The funny part was, he had forgotten, so it's a good thing I remembered! But you're right, it's a big tradition for girls who like to dress up and feel like princesses at the royal ball. How very DIsney of us, eh?