It all started with that word. I generally am trendy after trends have passed. I am still trying to figure out if I look attractive in a poncho. I know, Oprah featured that about two years ago. When the casual blazer thing has passed, I'll probably pick one up at the outlet. Anyway, I digress.
My mother who is in her early fifties went with me to the mall the other day. A woman dripping in diamonds passed us and my mother said, "look at the bling."
My jaw dropped, not from the "bling," but from my mother's use of it.
"Huh. How do you know that word?"
"Everyone says it."
"Not you. You would have smacked me if I used slang."
"Oh, you are so stuffy. Get with it girl."
My mother laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear.
I pointed in horror: "You double-pierced your ear."
Was the end near?
I needed the comfort of a "tall mocha, light on the mocha with whipped cream, no foam" from Starbucks. I staggered to the line and collapsed on a bench after getting the coffee (can you call a mocha "coffee"?).
What the hell was she going to do next, say "schizzle ma fizzle" or whatever Snoop Dogg says. Snarkboy told me to point out I'm not fo-schizzle how to spell fizzle.
My mother was experiencing a renewal. A few years ago my parents divorced. First of all, Indian couples don't divorce. You may live apart, you may not speak, and you are even allowed to see others, but you must maintain the facade of a marriage. For appearances, and so you would look good at the Indian Association dinners.
My parents decided they were too different and so they split. They did what any sane couple would do: take the remaining years of their lives and do what they wanted without the strictures of familial expectations.
My mother, as mentioned before, double-pierced her ear and learned a couple of new words. My father, to my surprise, took salsa lessons. If the "bling" comment surprised me, the thought of my staid engineer father learning something as seductive as Latin dance caused shivers. I try not to think too much about it.
I am very proud of my parents for making a marriage work in order to raise two semi-productive members of society. I am also proud that they knew when to say "this is enough," with no regard to what others think.
To many, marriage is so disposable. I recently read an article on starter marriages, marrying young, making mistakes, then gracefully exiting. Why don't you just throw a party and forgo the heartache? It took my parents years of existing in a marriage to come to the realization that it did not work for them. Even then, it was not sordid. It was a natural end to a relationship. My friend, whose parents had also divorced earlier that year, said his mother compared her marriage to a full garage. When the kids left the house as adults, taking all their clutter with them, the garage was bare -- there had been no husband and wife in the last 20 years of the marriage, just mother and father.
To me, the divorce of my parents didn't traumatize me, it helped me realize that two very different individuals were able to make a life for their family, then have enough self-awareness to go their separate ways after they had raised their children. They have grown since their divorce, and I am closer to them, but the fact remains that unlike the cliche of today's selfish parent, my mom and dad set aside their hopes and desires to take care of familial obligations: meshizzle and my bro-dizzle.
Peace, Lavagirl out.
