"For a mother the project of raising a boy is the most fulfilling project she can hope for. She can watch him, as a child, play the games she was not allowed to play; she can invest in him her ideas, aspirations, ambitions, and values -- or whatever she has left of them; she can watch her son, who came from her flesh and whose life was sustained by her work and devotion, embody her in the world. So while the project of raising a boy is fraught with ambivalence and leads inevitably to bitterness, it is the only project that allows a woman to be -- to be through her son, to live through her son."
Mom, I really miss you.
I'm kind of mad at you though. Cause you know. You made me promise the near impossible task of not getting upset, and you know me. A promise, is a promise, is a promise. Oh and you made me promise not to get that other tattoo. Cheater. But you know me. I'm not THAT mad at you.
Not like that time I got my head stuck in the bike rack at McDonalds. Remember? I was five. You were pretty pissed off. Or that time when I was six, and I got into that fight with that older kid. Remember? We had to sit in the nurse's office during the Pledge of Allegiance cause I had a bloody nose. Remember?
What about that time I came home drunk, and I woke you up to tell you I was drunk. Good times.
Don't worry. I also remember the time you swallowed your pride and cleaned other people's houses to make ends meet when I was seven. You thought I didn't know. But I did. I'm genius Mom. But you knew that. You always knew that.
Oh, and sorry about the time I broke the window. Or the closet door. Whoops.
I told you once, and I'll tell you again. Mom - I'm proud of you.
And no, I dont want you to touch my laundry, cause you always bleach everything and destroy my clothes.
Yes, I ate lunch. No I didn't eat dinner yet, it's only 4.
No, I don't have a girlfriend, but there's this one girl... What? No, she's not Vietnamese. She's Chinese. They're less crazy Mom. And oh so pretty. No, not prettier than you. Yes, you're talking too much. I know, I know - it's what you do.
Don't worry bout me Mom. You built me for this.
Promise.
I'll take care of everything.
Rest now Mom. You deserve it. You earned it.
Tell everyone I said hi.
Oh and Mom...
Thank you.
For everything.
I love you.
Always.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
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10 comments:
condolences. you strong man. trust, she is proud of you.
<3.
You'll miss her and want to make her proud until you die. One day, your son will look up to you. You'll be pulling heads out of bike racks in no time.
You're strong Tam Le. I admire you. Sometimes it's okay to cry.. even if you made a promise. She'll understand.
You've made her proud.
<<33
I'm sure you're mom will be laughing her ass off the first time your Chinese/Vietnamese son wakes you up in the middle of the night to tell you he's drunk and his head is in a bike rack.
Continue to make your mama proud.
how'd u get ur head outta the bike rack?? :)
i really like this post. *hugs*
love you
She is so proud of you, Tam. She raised a wonderful man.
Your mom sounds like a great woman.
your mom sounds like an amazing woman... and you know what? she raised a fucking amazing son. and no doubt, you've made her proud. i'm proud of you too. xoxo.
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