Stay In Touch.

A couple of years ago I had a dream in which the first image in this series came to me. Tracking down the phones to express the anxiety of loosing touch became an obsession. In the dream my two young daughters had grown up and left home, moving on to lives of their own in which they were no longer readily available for a conversation or a snuggle. I am somebody who is notoriously bad at staying in touch, a poor communicator to boot. Ever since high school whenever I’d leave home and promise to call my parents to let them know I had arrived safely at my destination, I have succeeded in failing nine times out of ten. This shortcoming is not for lack of love or care, but more a sense of overwhelm and poor time management skills. And so, as a mother of young ones I live with the deep anxiety that when my girls are grown and have flown the coop, they too will forget to call and my heart will ache in the space of silence. I know in my heart of hearts the need for individuation, but I’m holding out hope that we’ll stay in touch. There is a part of me that feels weirdly obsessive and needy in this love or perhaps just fiercely maternal. Sometimes though this loves verges on madness. This is a message to my daughters, Remember that I love you…madly (redact that, as surely I don’t want to scare them away.) Yes, remember that I love you.