The forest of parenthood

My mother looks at our relationship anew. I suppose it’s been years since she had the daily proximity cloud her judgment. She now sees how I’ve changed and grown into an adult, in sparse snapshots, and now she could even completely relinquish her parental position. 

Family trips have always been difficult, even more so that there’s too many strong egos butting heads here. When we drove down along the pacific coast, witnessing the grand gestures of American nature, we also learn to navigate the tiny interior of a rental car and how it might fit our luggages and personalities. When we stand in awe at our own insignificance in the redwood groves, I wonder if my mother recognises this from a time when we were still children weaving beneath her knees at the grocery aisle, staring up at the canopy of her wisdom.