Stressfration

B"H,

In keeping with the spirit of the moment

We stand side by side at the stove in perfect mirror symmetry.  My mother the lefty and me the righty.  I have been in the hospital for surgery.  Mom and Dad came to visit and to hold the fort together.  On my first day home I can find absolutely nothing in my own kitchen.  How could this be?  My mother, my wonderful loving Mom, has been working in my kitchen in my absence, cooking and cleaning, and putting everything away where it belongs.  ... not necessarily where she found it ... rather, where it belongs.  I would like to scream but it would hurt too much by pulling on my stitches or staples or whatever the doctor used to close up my gut. 

"Mom, do you remember when I was little and I did not want to do what you told me to do?  You said to me that this was your house and I had to do things your way.  You also said that when I grew up and had a home of my own I could do things my way.  Don't you believe that the moment has finally and certainly arrived?!  I have a husband and two children and my own house with a kitchen.  I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING HERE AND THIS IS MY KITCHEN!"

"Anna, I put things where they belong.  Just because you set up your kitchen incorrectly does not mean it has to stay wrong."

"Mom, I am raising my kids a certain way.  I am very curious as to what they will do with this up-bringing when they go out into the world on their own.  Weren't you curious as to what Bailah and I would do once we entered the world on our own?"

"No, Anna, no.  I assumed that you would take my example as your role model."

"Dad,... "  I left the kitchen fuming.

"Anna, don't yell at your mother."

"What about you and Bubbe?"

"Anna, I never yelled at my mother and I always did whatever she asked of me." 

"Oh, okay... fine, thank you."  The phone rang.  This was a good thing.  I was not pleased with the direction my conversations were taking.  It was Sam with a question for some forms at work.  I answered him and expected to hear him say, "Bye".  But, he lingered instead.  "Anna, what's wrong?  You don't sound right."  He had a few moments so I told him what was happening at home.  Silence.  Then Sam spoke, "your father didn't say anything about his father." 

"No, he did not.  Of course, he listened to his mother and did whatever she said.  He was the only English speaker in the household.  He had no choice if he wanted to eat."

"I'll bet it wasn't so peaceful with his father.  Take care, I'll be home early to rescue you.  Bye for now."

That was all years ago.  My parents are coming for a visit for Pesach, the Passover holiday.  My mother will want to help me.  She will question everything I am doing and note that she would skip this step or forget about a certain foreign -- to her -- ingredient.  I'd like to believe that I will receive all her help and words with grace and peace.  She is now an old woman and my father is a very old man.  They deserve health and wellness until one hundred twenty years and a day.  In the meanwhile, they must decide where to live once their house, my parental home, is finally sold. 

Perhaps they will come to me.