It's on the shelf where I put it.

My firstborn child, a daughter, called this morning. What a joy! I was planning on calling her later in the day, after the race. While it’s not unusual for her to reach out, the fact that she was doing so on the very day I planned to call her, without pre-arranging via text, was a sign I should turn off the TV and turn my attention to her.

As usual, we talked about a variety of things. She’s a junior in college and not only well informed on many topics, but just plain fun. She is well read, and a gifted musician and writer. She’s also street wise and had to grow up very quickly when my disease put on its running shoes. Our conversations are always interesting. I do tread lightly at times because her pain over the hardships she suffered at my hand is often palpable. Lately she has let me see that she has comforting memories that affect her positively, even now. It touches me deeply that she can reveal these things to me. It didn’t used to be that way. She’s opening up and I couldn’t be more grateful.

When I suggested she make contact with her brother (to check his liberty schedule) when she travels to within driving distance of where he is stationed next month, it opened a wound. She and her brother haven’t spoken since a disagreement they had over the New Year’s holiday. I had no idea. (This is actually a triumph that indicates I’m fairly successful in keeping our chats focused on who I am talking to at the time.) I know only bits and pieces but did not pry. I wanted to…yes, I wanted to meddle. But this is between them.

My mother’s heart aches for time lost. Her pain is obvious when she talks about this rift between them. What I wanted to say is that this is silly. That life is too short. That no matter what, they are siblings and in the end, family is what matters. I wanted to say so much, but didn’t. What I did say was that as their mom, of course I would like them to reconcile, but that in the end, they needed to work through this themselves,and if she wanted to talk about it, I'd listen. When I think about it now, I think I may have meddled after all. I did tell her that he once told me that before he left for boot camp, they had become close, and it was her absence at his graduation that disappointed him the most. I wish I hadn’t done that. I now realize I was attempting to tug at her heart strings. Manipulating. (My nephews would recognize this and say to her: “Pack your bags, you’re goin’ on a guilt trip!”) And my motives are difficult to accept. I wanted to fix their relationship to feel good about me.

Enter: my own codependency issues. I guess it’s time to take a certain suggestion down from the shelf, dust it off, and step into another phase of my recovery. Why doesn’t this surprise me?

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.