Last month I went on a weeklong vacation to San Francisco with my
mother. This was not the first vacation we have been on alone together,
nor is this the first time we have been on vacation together for a week, but
for some reason this trip was different.
I have always wanted to go to California, it has been a dream of mine
for my entire life and for some reason I just never made it out there. Whatever the case, the timing wasn’t right or
I never seemed to find the right company, my dream of California took a backseat
as I traveled with friends and boyfriends to other states/countries. This trip finally happening was a huge deal,
and I couldn’t have picked a better travel companion. I absolutely adore and idolize my mother, she
is the most amazing person I have ever met in my life and she is certainly the
strongest woman I know. But, this is not just an idealistic daughter
talking, I know a lot of my peers and people who have met her feel the same
way. Despite none of this information being a revelation to me, I still
learned a lot about my mother and our relationship in that one week . . .
probably more than she realizes.
My mother is a strong woman. I repeat; my mother is a strong
woman. Not in the sense of physical strength or solely assertiveness, but
the fact that she has overcome many situations and never sees the world jaded
or differently because of it. I always hoped to take that trait from her,
and I really believe I do. My mother
navigated us through an unfamiliar city, which has its fair share of
‘undesirable’ neighborhoods, with confidence, ease and without the least bit of
uncertainty. As we went from neighborhood to neighborhood stopping
at every wine tasting and little boutique we could stumble across, I realized I
am much more like my mother than I previously realized.
While we went from place to place as per recommendations of my
friends, my mother never questioned or complained, she just went with it and
gladly got us there. When I wanted to go
stick my feet in the Pacific Ocean [for the first time ever] despite it being freezing outside and not beach
weather at all, my mother was jumping in the ocean with me. My mother didn’t judge the silly things I do,
like splash freezing ocean water all over the place simply because I’ve never
been outside the Atlantic, but embraced them and appreciated the rose colored
way I see and love the world. But it is
more than her just valuing the way I see it, she also has the free spirit love
for beauty of the world that I do. We
went to the California Academy of Science, and my mom stopped and enjoyed every
exhibit we went to. There was never
enough information she could soak up, even as we were walking through the small
gardens before the Academy, my mom read every statue and sign there was. I love that about her.
One night my mother and I decided to take the concierge’s advice and
try a restaurant in the ‘Little Italy’ section of San Francisco. Well, what the concierge neglected to tell us
was that it was more of a little pizzeria than a restaurant. Nevertheless, it would be too rude to cancel
our reservation, so we sat in the small pizzeria/restaurant at a table for two
and browsed the menu. Out of nowhere
some portly, unkempt older man sits down next to us and proceeds to
uncomfortably create conversation. After
not getting the hint that we were uninterested in conversing with a stranger
who was jamming his dirty hands in our bread, chewing with his mouth open, and
hacking up a lung while we were trying to eat our appetizers, he proceeded to
move all his belongings from his original table and sit next to us for the
remainder of our meals. While the wait
staff was getting quite the giggle out of this awkward encounter, my mother and
I dealt with the intrusion the same way . . . more wine!
This was the very meal that made me realize how much my mother and
I are the same person. Despite being disinterested
in making a new friend, she continued conversation and didn’t miss a beat or
get uncomfortable. As I sat there
ignoring the interactions, I noticed a man with a little yorkie walked in and sat
on the other side of us. Our ‘girls
night dinner’ has now become a circus attraction. After playing with the little dog [I am a
sucker for dogs] for a few minutes, the other man, let’s call him Egbert, now
decided he too wanted to be in our conversation. I then found myself trying to pay attention
to my mother’s conversation with Mr. Pignati[1], which had now gotten friendlier
after the discovery that Mr. Pignati is single, looking for love, and also
interested in men. My mother’s new goal for the evening was to get Mr. Pignati to
date and find love, after all, this was San Francisco, and no one should be
alone forever!
That whole interaction was a scene I could see playing out for
myself. My Friends always laugh because
whenever we go out, I make a new friend.
It doesn’t matter how creepy or bizarre the person is, I always have a
good story, and apparently that is a trait I got from my mother!
Throughout our dinner, Mr. Pignati and Egbert became our dinner
guests, albeit competing against each other for attention. Egbert was an older man, skinny, covered in
jewelry, long gray hair slicked back, motorcycle helmet in tow (although all I
saw outside was a cheesy vespa) and this little female yorkie with a pink bow
in here hair. Much to my dismay and
confusion, Egbert was not interested in men; he was just a 1960’s ‘free love’
kind of flowerchild. Although I pride
myself on being a free spirit, Egbert gave me the creeps and I would’ve much
preferred to stay chatting it up with Mr. Pignati.
A few creepy comments from Egbert with retaliation from me caught my mom’s
ear and she whipped out the ‘Brooklyn/Italian/Overprotective Momma Bear’
attitude. Yet another realization that
my mother and I are the same person, because I get that same kind of protective
crazy when I feel my family[2] are being threatened [or
just really annoyed.]
A few glasses of wine and champagne down, our entrees and desserts
finished, and memories to last us a lifetime, my mother and I departed the
restaurant. I do not remember that
dinner just because two creepy old men were trying to scam on me and my mom,
but I remember it because my mother and I sat in a quiet boring little restaurant
and had ourselves a party, making tons of new friends. We had the entire kitchen staff out talking
to us, the owners of the restaurant and their family telling us their story,
and of course our two dinner guests from other tables. Much like myself, my mother is a people
person and brings the party wherever she goes.
There is no reason in living a boring life, especially when you can make
every mundane activity interesting.
I couldn’t think of anyone better to be so similar to other than
my mother. She absolutely is my best
friend; She understands me, knows why I am the way I am, and appreciates
me. Now, it can be argued that these are
just traits of being a mother and feeling that way about your children is
natural, but the admiration, understand and appreciation is reciprocated, which
isn’t always the case between paternal and offspring relationships. One simple weeklong vacation meant more to me
than could’ve previously been predicted, and will be filled with memories I hold
for a very long time.
[1] This
name has been changed to protect said portly man’s identity, and yes, it is from a book.
[2]
Friends are family too
