It’s the open door to your room to remind me that you’re not there. It is
always wide open when you leave, and always closed when you come back. At
the beginning, but I couldn’t even say when it started, I experienced it as
an exclusion, and I was sorry, I confess. Now, it’s not that I like being
left outside, but I think I understood that it wouldn’t even be right to go
inside, unless you want to, and let’s say it doesn’t happen often.
The door that closes marks the end of a path, the beginning of a new one,
and I’m learning that at this point accompanying you means no longer
holding your hand, but following you beyond the intertwined fingers, out of
the reflection of our shadows, maybe even beyond the gaze, but never far
from the heart.
I don’t like it when we quarrel, I don’t like it when we raise our voices;
but you know, I would really like not to give up being a mother. I try to
understand your reasons, to respect your positions, but I realize how
difficult it is to transmit values to a person who “as a rule” seems to
take rejection as the only one. And this person is you, of course, with
your “no, I don’t care, but what are you saying, it’s ridiculous…”
As your father says, we are your fans, who sing the praises when you score
a good shot, and who can also whistle when something is wrong, but it’s
only because we love you, because we care about you.
Now, it is good that you know that…
I don’t want to stop telling you that you don’t have to be late at night
for fear of fighting.
I don’t want to stop waiting for you, maybe reading or sometimes napping,
to say good night, even if it is already daytime.
I don’t want to stop repeating you have to tidy up your room, to prevent it
from turning irreversibly into the realm of chaos.
I don’t want to stop discussing our ideas, apparently so different, to help
you recognize and evaluate all the views and their validity.
I don’t want to stop telling you that I don’t agree with the lyrics of
certain songs you listen to, even if it means sacrificing a good dose of my
pride at the altar of your pitiless satire on my musical tastes; I try to
awaken your critical spirit.
I don’t want to stop stealing one of your hugs before leaving, taking you
by surprise, perhaps taking advantage of your distraction, because it’s
beautiful to keep your astonished gaze all day long: a real mix of
complacency and annoyance.
I don’t want to stop following your steps, even if I know that I have to do
it by staying one step further and further, because it’s time to fulfill
‘that bringing into the world”, which started 15 years ago.
I don’t want to stop being a mother, I don’t want to stop now, I don’t want
to stop ever.
I respect your autonomy, and I would like to continue to support it, if you
would give me the chance, as I have done since you learned to walk. I don’t
like imposing rules that you don’t like, it is hard for me -you don’t even
imagine how much- but I will continue to do so, trying as much as possible
to be rigorous and consistent, even at the cost of appearing rigid and
inflexible in your eyes.
I know I can’t protect you from making mistakes or from suffering, but I
wouldn’t forgive myself if I dropped an important piece of advice for the
sake of avoiding the conflict. The rules are limits, I agree, but also
boundaries: they draw criteria, they help to define paths. And I hope that
you can realize your life goals, and, while searching for meaning, you find
the direction to get to the authentic truth.
I am not perfect, but I try my best. And I know you keep thinking that the
problem is that I put too much effort in everything and you see it as
Learn from my limitations, strengthen yourself with my fears, and forgive
me if I sometimes insist. I don’t want you to depend on me, just as I don’t
want you to depend on anything else but your decisions, decisions that
should be free and responsible.
It’s nice to see how determinedly you protect your freedom from any
imposition, but I really hope that you can put an even greater passion to
defend, from any conditioning trend, the freedom to realize your dreams.