The two are close in age. Only two years apart, in fact. One day, the youngest decides to challenge the eldest’s authority. The eldest grows tired of another tantrum. She retaliates. They start pulling on hair and biting each other. Like savages they fight, they create quite the sight.
Moments later, their mother finds them tangled like cobras spitting venom. She separates the two, and laments out loud. “You have each other and nothing else in this world. I told you not to fight. You two have to get along. Look after each other. How many times must I tell you both? The eldest must set the example as well as be patient. The youngest one must respect and listen to your older sister. ”
She grows quiet and pulls out a long branch from the closet. All emotions drain from her face.
“Roll up your pants,” she commands.
Begrudgingly, they each pull up their pants to expose small calves.
The eldest steps forward and turns around. Three sharp and long slashes mark her calves. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t make a sound. She steps away to make way for her little sister.
The youngest steps towards and turns around. The same three strikes. Her legs feel hot and sharp against the pain. She feels guilty and regrets being the belligerant one. She wonders why she is so bad. Why she has to win at everything. She wishes she wasn’t so angry all the time.
Mother applies ointment on the pair of small legs. She holds both in her arms and whispers once again. “Be kind to each other. Don’t fight.”
Children fall asleep, forgetting their mother’s words filled with tender love and caution.
The youngest awakens and wonders if it was all a dream. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Why did she tell us not to fight? Why didn’t she teach us how to fight better instead? Teach us to use words instead of using our bodies? As good as her intentions were, she wishes her mother had taught them the importance of good fighting techniques.
But how could she? The child looks back in the rearview mirror and sees what she could not before. Mother did the best she could. She had flaws. She made mistakes. Nothing she did was perfect. Her mother was a young woman who did her best to raise her little children without her husband. The father who abandoned them. The husband who ran away from his problems because he didn’t know how to communicate. He knew how to run away. And he never learned how to find his way back. He is still running.
Her mother’s parents… An alcoholic father and abused mother. She grew up not knowing how to use her words to resolve her own issues. So how could she pass on the wisdom she did not have?
The child is of course, no longer a child. But she is also not asleep anymore. Her eyes are open. She sees her past with a new set of lens to let the truth in. Although her mother did her best, her best was simply not good enough. She must do the work to fill the gap. She will have to teach herself to stop running and find her way back. And in time, stop running altogether. Face the problem. Own it. Resolve it. Move on.
