I still think boyish thoughts when it comes to my mother, after some 50 odd years. It's true that I still love her today like I loved her when I was a child. I still feel the same dependence from my gut, still expect to receive a soothing hand and voice for whatever bothersome nag has wrestled me down. Other family members don't like to see or deal with this and can only criticize me for being immature and in their eyes taking advantage of my mother's generous love.
The latest developments have presented me with an unbridaled passion for railing against this relationship I have with my mother. My sister and my mother's SO give me no more room alongside my elderly mom. I wish I had more wits and resources about me, instead of suffering such an outlandish disease in a legacy from dear old Dad. In the meantime, they both give me grief to no end.
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