Life With My Arab Mom: Moms, Daughters and Gilmore Girls

Thursday night:

I’m watching Gilmore Girls on my tv in the room. I’m close to ending season 3. My mother has been watching little snippets of the show here and there when she walks in. She peeks her head in sometimes to see why I’m laughing out loud. “What’s funny?”, she asks me. “ Something Lorelai and Rory did, mom.”

I see her sometimes focused on certain scenes between Lorelai and Rory (mother and daughter on the show). She sees how they interact, and I notice her looking back at me, her eyes filled with desire, seeing a smile on my face. She wants that relationship they have.

I want it too.

My mother and I are not close. We love each other. We’d take bullets for each other, but there are incidences in the past that have shaken the trust between us. They rocked it in its very core. Our relationship took a toll when I turned 12. Not because of the usual teenage angst-related issues. I never got a chance to do that. No, it was more about the divorce, money, being caught in the middle of my parents’ fights, being used as ammo, etc… I then spent more than half my adolescence away from her. I didn’t speak to her for two years. I needed her most during that time. For circumstances I don’t wish to speak about or share, I was forced to live with my dad.

It turned out okay though. I’m happy where I am.

When she came to live with me 7 years ago, it was under exceptional conditions that 20 year olds usually can’t uphold, but I did it. We’ve tried to rebuild our relationship since. We are much closer, but not close enough.

Last night, she poked her head in again. Aside of her constant inquisitive conversations about the show (why do you like it so much? Why are you always watching it?…), she came in to talk to me.

Mom: You’ve come in every day from work this week without holding a conversation with me. You come home, you go in your room, and you watch this show.

(To be fair, we’ve had some pretty rough conversations this week concerning her health. Small talk was just not in the agenda with that. But I did owe her one.)

Me: I promise I’ll take you out this weekend, Mama. I get paid tomorrow. We’ll go on a mommy-daughter date.

She nodded her head and came in to sit and watch.

Mom: What’s going on in this scene?

Me: Rory’s been accepted to all these elite schools. She’s choosing to go to Yale. She’s nearby but she’s gonna live on campus. And her mom is telling her that her boyfriend skipped town and she’s consoling her.

She’s bewildered.

Mom: Her mom is letting her go even though she’s near?

(This is a touchy subject for my mom.)

Me: Yes, she knows this is the best for her daughter so that she can focus and graduate. She trusts her daughter enough to know what she’s raised and is giving her opportunities she didn’t have herself. She’s pushing her to do this.

Mom: And she let her date?

Me: (laughing) Yes, Mama. They share everything. Rory tells her mom everything because her mom trusts her.

I can see my mom’s face changing, but she stays quiet, and keeps watching.

Shortly after, she leaves the room, and I go to bed.

I wake up in the middle of the night. I check my phone: 12:47 am. The lights are on outside. I hear the tv and listen closer. Lorelai’s voice is faint, but distinct. I get up and peek from the room. My mom had turned on Netflix and put on Gilmore Girls. She doesn’t see me, but she’s focused. It’s another scene between Lorelai and Rory. She’s attentive. She’s quiet. She’s taking it all in.

A smile forms on my lips. I feel the tears coming. I close the door silently, and go back into bed. I start thinking: She’s watching it. I used to watch that show as a kid and she never understood it. Now, I think she is starting to see why I watched it. Is she seeing what I’m seeing? Is she seeing the “what if’s” and “what could have been’s” if things were different, if we weren’t blinded by other things that destroyed the trust? Maybe she is. Maybe she’s learning how to deal with the fact that I’ll be gone soon, and how to handle it. Maybe she’s starting to accept the fact that she needs to trust me and not worry about what other people think. Maybe, just maybe, I’m getting my mom back.

I lay in my bed. I thank God for this moment. I thank Him for giving me time with her to fix things, no matter how little it may be. I ask Him to give me a little more. I need it. There’s so much to make up for. There’s limited time to do it. Despite it all, I am grateful.

I fall asleep looking forward to my date with my mom this weekend like my life depended on it.