By Anči
As a baby whenever I
would start crying because my mama had to leave, her response would always be
to gently sit me down and ask: "sta treba imati u zivotu?"
what does one need to posses in life?) I wouldn't always reply immediately-- in
fact, i'd often take my sweet time getting my shit together, before conceding
with a murmur: "Muda." (balls.) That's right, from the age of
infancy, mama taught me that I needed to harness my (metaphoric) balls, and
persevere-- because sometimes life was hard-- even for a baby.
Anyway without fail, the moment I'd say "muda" (however reluctantly) something would shift inside me, and I'd feel brave enough to let my mother go. (it was something of a verbal security blanket, but it always had the same effect affect on me, according to my parents...)
To this day, my mom is still a big source of my strength. Which sounds totally cheesy, except that as I type the words, I really mean them. She's the one person in the world who's able to call me out on my bullshit, while simultaneously serving up some seriously life-altering wisdom in the process. (it's a distinctly dissonant experience-- further complicated by the ensuing rush of... awed annoyance. Have any of you ever experienced awed annoyance? No? Imagine the person you've projected all your adolescent angst on, steadily commanding your admiration and respect. (through a ridiculously unparalleled intellect.--Like, she's scary smart--, passionate curiosity, and strength of character.) Then imagine, momentarily seeking refuge in your highschool-honed cynicism in order to deflect from that, (because a part of you is always going to be a little defiant around your parents.) Then throw in some gratitude, and factor in 26 years of solid guidance, and love-- always delivered in the form of WITTY zingers. (Because my mama is freaking FUNNY.) That's what awed annoyance feels like, and that's what my mama makes me feel every day.
Anyway without fail, the moment I'd say "muda" (however reluctantly) something would shift inside me, and I'd feel brave enough to let my mother go. (it was something of a verbal security blanket, but it always had the same effect affect on me, according to my parents...)
To this day, my mom is still a big source of my strength. Which sounds totally cheesy, except that as I type the words, I really mean them. She's the one person in the world who's able to call me out on my bullshit, while simultaneously serving up some seriously life-altering wisdom in the process. (it's a distinctly dissonant experience-- further complicated by the ensuing rush of... awed annoyance. Have any of you ever experienced awed annoyance? No? Imagine the person you've projected all your adolescent angst on, steadily commanding your admiration and respect. (through a ridiculously unparalleled intellect.--Like, she's scary smart--, passionate curiosity, and strength of character.) Then imagine, momentarily seeking refuge in your highschool-honed cynicism in order to deflect from that, (because a part of you is always going to be a little defiant around your parents.) Then throw in some gratitude, and factor in 26 years of solid guidance, and love-- always delivered in the form of WITTY zingers. (Because my mama is freaking FUNNY.) That's what awed annoyance feels like, and that's what my mama makes me feel every day.
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