Knock, knock

As I stood in the street outside my dad's house over ten years ago, I was so nervous I wanted to puke. I hadn't seen him since I was in third grade. I was then a freshman in college. It took me twenty minutes of pacing back and forth in front of his house that night to get up the nerve to ring the doorbell. 

As I sat parked in my mother's driveway last Saturday night, I felt nothing but indifference. I might as well have been pulling up to Walgreens to buy mascara. I hadn't seen her in over two years. I parked in the driveway, grabbed my bags, and walked resolutely up to the door. 

She welcomed me in and hugged me. She said she was glad to see me and that she loved me very much. As I put my arms around her to hug her, I felt like I was hugging a mannequin or a robot. It seemed empty.

The conversation was awkward and sputtering. For a person that usually has a lot to say, nothing compelling came to my mind. I met mom's fiancée, Kyle, who lives with her now. We sat in the basement for several painful minutes watching Kyle's two cats play with fake mice and eat cat treats. Two cats? Mom hates cats. She showed me her engagement ring, and I told her it was very nice. Kyle went to bed soon after I got there so mom and I could "catch-up". 

Usually when you "catch-up," both parties inquire of each other about the goings on in their lives and each person shares in turn. Mom just kept talking about how great her life is and how great Kyle is and how in love she is. She asked me if I was happy that she is so happy. I told her I was, of course. She continued on about her great life, never asking my about my life and whether or not it's great, so I just listened. Then she talked about how she wants us to have a relationship again, and she launched into what seemed like a political commercial, listing all the reasons I should trust her again. I felt like she was asking for my vote. It all seemed so fake. 

I sat there on my kitchen stool and wondered who this person was in front of me. And as she spoke, re-writing history with every word, I was reminded again of how different her past is from the one I remember living through. I was too tired to be angry or indignant, so I just sighed quietly and told her that we just can't talk about some things, and I was glad to give our relationship a go again as long as it didn't turn into what it was before. Because I'm tired of being hurt, and if she tries to hurt me again, she'll lose me forever. 

Driving home the next day, I tried to think through what had happened and how I felt. It's an odd thing to have no feelings at all for a parent. I told God that if this relationship was to blossom again, he'd have to really till the soil of my heart so that new life in our relationship could grow. But even if he tilled the soil, I have no desire to do any planting, weeding, fertilizing, or tending. So what's the point? What is the point of maintaining this relationship?

And that's the question I'm still looking for answers to. I know what I should do, and I know what I want to do. I can't seem to reconcile the two.