Mundane poignancy

The other day, I had such a mundanely poignant experience. The background of it is that my mother, whatwouldIdowithouther, comes for a couple nights, usually, each week to stay with us and help with Daisy so I can get things done that tend to fall by the wayside (like, uh, grading papers). She always leaves Thursday morning. This last Thursday morning, as I was driving home from a morning appointment, I saw her car passing me in the other direction--leaving me. I always have such a strong feeling of sadness and abandonment (unfair, I know) when she leaves, and for some reason it was especially hard to see her this way, her car passing mine, and no ability to communicate and say goodbye. I turned, waving frantically, and shouting (futilely), "Mama, mama!" --as if she could hear me. Of course, she couldn't hear me. But what made it worse was that she didn't see me, either, and she was in the process of taking a big bite out of a sandwich.

The whole thing was inordinately heartbreaking: seeing her car, leaving me; having her not see me; and, oddly, the sandwich. I found out later that it was a really good sandwich, too, from Angelina's gourmet deli, where she had stopped on her way out of San Francisco. She totally, totally deserved the sandwich. She works so hard to help us when she's here. But for some reason, I was almost in tears as our cars passed. I scrambled for my cell phone, thinking I'd call her, and then I thought I might accidentally cause her car to crash, since she'd be juggling driving, the sandwich, and her cell phone. Or else she wouldn't answer, which would augment the heartbreak. My hand went back and forth three times, to my purse to grab the phone, then back to the steering wheel, then back to the purse... till I decided not to call.

Was it that I wanted a sandwich, too? I have to admit, I thought maybe she'd made the sandwiches at home before she left, and as a surprise for me, when I got home, there'd be a big yummy mother-made sandwich waiting for me. (That was before I knew she'd stopped at Angelina's on her way out of town.) Or was I jealous of the sandwich, because it was taking my mother's attention away from me? It was bad enough that she was leaving me, after all.

My mother won't be so happy that I shared this anecdote, but it is not meant to reflect poorly on her at all, and I'm sure no one will think that it does. And the only reason to have a new blog is so that I can be more open about things on it. So I hope she forgives me for sharing this woeful little tale.