We spoke with our youngest daughter last evening, or rather early this morning, 3am PDT to be exact.
I was the first direct connect, we hearing her voice, she mine and my husband’s, since we saw her off last Friday morning.
“I miss you,” she said.
“We miss you too,” I replied, trying not to emphasize the word, miss, too much.
Moments earlier, my husband had mumbled, moaned–I am not sure which; I had been reading–“I miss her.” I had ask him to repeat his words, I had been so into reading.
This is not to say that I do not miss our daughter. My way of dealing with any of my family members being away is to delve into projects. The only challenge is to find a project that fits the amount of time they will be away. That can be tricky with my enormous creative streak.
My mother continually mantraed, “Anjuelle has a wild imagination.”
I never knew what she meant about wild.
I did not view the ideas I held, the things I desired to do and accomplish as being that far off the beaten path.
As a person I am fairly conservative. I exhibit openness and wide latitude to others, attempt to use the aspects that distinguish me from other and vice versus, as a way to broaden my consciousness.
The various ways my wild imagination coerced and pushed my mother to stretch her mind frightened her terribly.
The words wild imagination left me thinking of some sort of beast, a tiger to be exact.
Perhaps that is how she saw me. Although my mother was incredible frightened of snakes, her description of my imagination conjured the picture of a Bengal tiger, stalking its prey, its solitary nature incomprehensible and yet revered.
My imagination provided me a deep well in which to delve and escape my mother. Perhaps she saw this and wished to take part.
But one does not play with a Tiger.
In this reframe of her statement, I imagine myself coming to her, born, as a tiny Tiger cub, that presented as a small cat. My mother’s mother owned a cat, a black cat.
Black leopards mesmerize me.
And yet I respect their fearsome strength.
They to have spots.
The ocean waters in which I found refuge from my mother terrified her.
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“I’m counting the days until I see you all again” our daughter said to us late last night early this morning, “I’m enjoying the trip, but I miss you.”
“That’s understandable,” I said. “Seems quite normal.”
That my mother feared my ability to sink into myself, she so afraid of the water from the well that flowed within her seems quite plausible.
I am no thinking of the Jupiter conjunct Neptune in her astrological chart, and located in the 12th house and that I, her daughter was born with Sun in the twelfth house.
Perhaps she saw me living, dwelling in the waters she so long avoided.
Were I here that would frighten me too.
And now her youngest grandchild and granddaughter, and born under the sign, and with Sun in Pisces, the uber manifestation, the living waters, in earthly and bodily form, of all that lived within my mother, that I dwell within, has traveled over 10,000 miles of ocean and travels about Japan.
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