My Mother and I

Reading "Arm Wrestling with My Father" really struck a chord within me.
     Manning's relationship with his father used to be based upon a "ritual of... competition" as a way to "have a conversation", but it gradually morphs until Manning is longer "pressured to compete with [him]". Manning's growth is an unavoidable part of life, and it alters his previously competitive relationship with his father. The loss of competitive nature paired with Manning's win in the arm wrestle is symbolic of his father passing his strength on his son, and this changes his father. Manning even senses a "softer... embrace" in his dad that carries a different meaning than it did before.
     It was the "softer... embrace" portion of the narrative that bothered me. Not because it wasn't a fitting end, but because that was what my relationship with my mother used to have. And, when Manning bares his soul in such a raw way, it reminds me just how much I miss the simplicity of a hug.
     Before I begin, let me just say that my mother always has and still does care for me greatly; She always makes sure a hot dinner is on the table, and she always selflessly puts my needs above her own. If I want to go shopping? Of course she'll take me, even if there's still work to be done at home. I remember I used to always give her a kiss on the cheek before I left for school. She would always call me at 3 o'clock to ask me how my day was.
     But in the past two years or so, our communication has gradually become more scarce. It was small at first, so small that I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.
     It began when my mother got a new job as a data analyst. She was so excited to finally be trying something new, to learn how to code in the new age. And I was happy for her. But, she was so bogged down at work that a few weeks later, the post-school phone calls trickled off before stopping altogether. I didn't see her in the mornings anymore - she left for work before I was even awake.
     Nowadays, I don't see her until after I come home from swim, around 8 o'clock. While I eat dinner, she usually tells me about her horrible boss, who will not hesitate to throw people under the bus. Or she'll tell me about her coworker, who is recently divorced and who constantly cries. Either way, I'm now keenly aware of the inner workings of her company.
     It's become somewhat of a chore to listen to her. But I endure it.
     I keep my mouth shut because I'm older, and I understand her need to vent. I also understand that these are the precious few moments I get to see her in the day, and I must appreciate them.
     Perhaps this loss of communication, like Manning's loss of competitiveness, is inevitable as I grow older and more independent. 
     Even if that is the case, I still appreciate a warm embrace. Yesterday, when my mother got up to see me off to the HOSA competition, she gave me a hug, and it helped fueled me the rest of the day. -MC