Don’t tell me I don’t understand love at your age. I realize over two decades separate us in age, but I remember my first love like it was yesterday. I
remember what it felt like when he first whispered those words, and I knew with every fiber of my being that he meant it. I remember what it felt like to be with him, and it seemed like the rest of the world just vanished. I remember looking into his eyes, as he looked into mine, and our souls touched. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand.
I know how you view me: crazy woman, always talking on the phone or on her laptop, dealing with work issues. You step into the door, I pause briefly, say hello, then continue on my maddening pace. I’m cleaning the kitchen, doing laundry, dealing with your little half-brother. I’m asking you “mom” questions like if you need new socks or if you are hungry. You see me for 48 hours and then you are gone.
You know I love your dad, but I’m old. Old people don’t “get” love. We don’t “get” all the struggles you face. We don’t “get” how difficult life is. I hate to break it to you, but I’m a child of the eighties. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, baby. More than half of my friends’ parents were divorced. Drugs were more available than alcohol. EVERYBODY was “doing it.” Fast Times of Ridgemont High showed how easy it was to get an abortion. We didn’t worry about sexually transmitted diseases. AIDS didn’t impact us (or so we thought). It was one big party.
In the middle of all of that, my friends were getting high, getting drunk, and cheating on their significant others. Classmates died from drug overdoses and suicides. I was trying to get out of high school without getting pregnant or getting arrested – and I was one of the good kids, little miss goody-goody.
So, sorry to burst your little bubble, but yeah, I do “get” it. It’s been a long time ago, true. My issues now are perhaps more complex, but I would say that infidelity, arrests, pregnancy and death are way bigger than some of my problems now. So cut me some slack. Listen to me when I give you a little advice. I don’t do it often, and I never say, “Oh this isn’t a big deal.” I know it is. I know what it feels like to love and to lose that love, especially the first time. It feels like you’ve lost your entire world. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be love.
Don’t tell me I don’t understand. I do.