[As an opening aside -- I believe it's a writing no-no, but the hell with that -- this blog has probably done the communication flow between me and me spouse a world of good. I'm able to ask, "So, what did you think of that post?" And he can say, "Oh, that sucked!" Or, if he wants to have dinner on the table or clean shirts or something else, he'll say, "Very good." And he'll elaborate. Additionally, I spare him the agony of having to actually listen to me pontificate, pompous cow that I am. He only has to skim it. Not a bad deal, I propose. Or I purport. Or I, alas, pontificate.]
Which all leads me in my meandering way to the following observation vis-à-vis my earlier post. Pete allowed over our quiet dinner that my mom likely sees me as I am today. ("Quiet" so does not describe any moment before 10 p.m. that we share.) And I at first disagreed, as I am always one to first disagree with whatever outlandish comment one makes. (Bull. I always agree and then meander to disagreement.)
But many of those horrible mes I proposed -- sullen, rebellious, drug-influenced, wandering -- occurred at occasions that have either been described by my mom as either passing in a blur -- good Lord, five kids in six years, need I say more? -- or were at times in her life that she'd prefer to leave un-reexamined. So she probably does see me for who I am now rather than the iterations from alleys in the past.