Day Thirty-Eight:  Culture Shock, What Is Forgiveness, My Mother is Not Taller

We are starting to explore our new neighborhood and city, and I have to admit, things are not what I expected.  It’s not bad different, just different.  I’ve spent a decent amount of time in areas close to this, and areas I thought were similar, but this is completely different.  I feel like, in some ways, I moved to a foreign country.  It’s going to take some getting used to, and patience, and energy, and it’s worth the patience and energy, but also, I’m getting too old for this s***.

I stayed up a little bit later than usual chatting with my mom again, still trying to understand the nature of forgiveness, from someone more experienced than I am, and I still feel like I just don’t fully understand it.  The difference between forgiving and forgetting, if there is a discernible difference at all, is beyond my grasp, and although at times I feel I sort of get it intuitively, it slips away as soon as I try to digest it.  Maybe it’s a generational thing.  Maybe forgiveness meant something different than it does now, and it’s because in some ways I live between generations that I don’t fully get it.  That’s one of our oldest daughter’s favorite new sayings.  “Get it?!” Yes, I get it, but thanks for checking.  Also, are you six, or sixteen, or thirty-six?  Are you my daughter or my boss?  I’m fairly confident that if my boss spoke to me that way I would come home in tears or quit.  Or end up on one of those awful crime shows my mom watches.

Also, and I’m stating this for the record, fully aware no one else cares.  I am taller than my mother.  She pointed out that her shoulder was above mine when we were standing next to each other, but she is not taller.  I’ve just been, literally, bent out of shape by carrying babies and diaper bags, but I will create a yoga practice and stretch out, because I am taller.

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