A conversation with mum

Mum “David, why are you reading a motorbike magazine”

Me “Because I’m thinking about… err getting… a motorbike… Maybe…”

I now know exactly where this conversation is going next, and all of a sudden I’m 14 again and it’s not going to go well.

My mother is in bed with cancer and can hardly move. Yet somehow she draws deep and finds the energy to roll back the clock 28 years to give her 40 year old son a scolding… This is why I fly 5500 miles and deal with changing airplanes in the outer ring of hell known as Atlanta. Awesome…

Mum “Da Vid…”

Yep, my name is pronounced as two separate words, this confirms what’s coming…

Mum “Why would you want to buy one of those?”

Dad is sitting across the other side of the hospital bed, he sits back to watch and starts smiling at what he knows is coming.

Mum “You’re 40… Why would you want a motorbike? Tommy tell him to stop being stupid…”

The grin disappears from dads face with a start, he’s now involved, he decides (wisely) not to say anything, knowing that 2 or 3 seconds of silence is all that’s required before…

Mum “David I worry about you so much already, you are not getting a motorbike…”

Ooooh, well played dad. He’s out the game and did not even need to open his mouth. If only I had that skill…

Me “Mum, I’m 40, if I want a bike I’ll get a bike. I’m just looking, I’ve not decided I will actually get one…”

Mum “I worry so much, if there is anything dangerous to be done, you’ll do it. Won’t you?”

Me “Biking is not dangerous”

Oh shit, all that’s missing is the “but muuummmm…” whine to start the sentence. I’ve lost, but how do I get out of this with any semblance of dignity?

Mum “Yes it is, Caroline’s son… You remember Natalie? And her daughter Caroline? Natalie was at Marks wedding. Anyway… He fell off his motorbike and hurt himself! It is dan-ger-ous and you are not to do it! Is that clear?”

Mum hardly pauses for breath and continues  “I worry about you enough now that you live in America and do that racing thing, you are not getting a motorbike! Is that clear? And you are too old for that racing thing you do, you’rs not supposed to be doing that at your age.”

I’ve done that “racing thing” for the last 24 years, it’s not the first time I’ve heard this part of the argument. I remind myself to stay away from the “I’m here now aren’t I, I’ve not died?” logic. History shows reasoned arguments do not do well.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and that’s my dignity making its exit with out me… Well fuck…

Mum “I just want you to be safe and happy…”

Me “OK, I’m not getting a bike, you are right it’s dangerous.”

Mum changes track “No need to be sarcastic, you are old enough to do what you want. I just want you to be happy.”

Me “But Muu-umm, I was not being sarcastic”

Mum “David” said rapid fire now. “But are you happy?”

Me “No, I don’t have a motorbike.”

Mum left me a series of mostly short notes, I left them in England after the funeral and have conspicuously ignored them since. Not 100% sure why, I think it’s mostly just the emotions around them.

I read a couple and put the rest in my bag to read once I get home, perhaps accompanied by a nice bottle of wine. Though, as it’s mum, maybe whiskey would be more appropriate.

It’s taken me a while to get there, but I’ve read a few and there have been a few consistent themes. First is the love she has for dad, my brother, her granddaughter and myself. Secondly she is proud of how I’ve made my way in world. Most importantly she wants me to be happy too.