You ever been lucky enough to have a friend who experiences life the same way you do? And I don't mean sometimes - I mean just about every time. I know it is not uncommon for people to be very much like one or both of their parents, so it's not surprising to hear that Jimmy hates bell peppers just like his dad does. We are all, of course, made from the same scraps of particle board that our ancestors have always used. But in the case of Nancy Union, I didn't expect that I would just be a clone of her internal experience.
We do not look the same and we have different interests, talents, and opinions, but what we take in from any experience will be exactly the same. We can go to a party but interact with different people, eat a different meal, stay for different amounts of time and on and on, but we will come back together the next day and exactly mirror each other's experience. We will have observed the same tiny detail; a silly shaped stain on a tablecloth or a cute mannerism from a waitress. We will both suggest that the music was 1.8 notches too loud. We both noticed the same great pair of shoes someone was wearing. We will have both felt disappointment at the dessert selection and have chosen to redecorate the space in our minds using a similar color palette. We will have gotten a whiff of something that we each describe as "dirty mop water." Most recently, and this is our favorite, we will have both developed the same bizarre physical ailment at the same point in the evening. And then when we tell each other about our night we will laugh and laugh at our strange selves.
I have no original thoughts. I am just a piece of my mother that broke off and grew legs.
This eerie likeness to each other is somewhere in the "top 5 best things in my life that I had no control over." I do happen to like my mom, so being compared to her is not off-putting or distressing, as it seems to be for so many of my friends, especially when we were teenagers. But thats not why its in the top 5. It ranks so highly because it's awfully fun. What a riot to hear your experience played back to you through another lens. "Me too!" we constantly shriek as if it is not to be expected.
And because of this shared experience magic trick we can do, we can easily place ourselves into each other stories and then feel as though it happened to us even though we weren't there. I remember one time listening to Mom tell me about something annoying that happened, and then I got all flustered and started coming up with reasons why I did it that way, when I suddenly remembered it was Mom's thing. "Oh wait, this is your story." And then we laugh and laugh. It's really easy for us to be on each other's team. We are often our only allies.
So when Mom got an unfair parking ticket at Folly the other day and decided to march on into Town Hall with it, I was her hype-man. "Yeah! Go in there and tell 'em!" The parking people had already left for the day, so Mom and I ranted and raved about the frustrating changes to our beloved beach as we rode back to James Island. Mom went on about "rich Yankees" while I came up with the new slogan; Can't live here. Can't rent here. Can't park here. We were volleying our fury back and forth when I said, "It's the Janet of the beaches!" I had a metaphor going in my head that I didn't realize I hadn't said out loud. But with conviction, mom said, "Yeah!" and then she slightly cocked her head and thought for a minute.
"Cause Janet's supposed to be the fun sister!" I continued.
"Mmm hmm!" Mom agreed.
"No wait, that's not her name. What's her name?" I asked. Then I realized her name is Cindy and that Mom couldn't possibly know what I was talking about. I burst out laughing at Mom's enthusiastic support of my thoughts despite her confusion.
You don't know what I'm talking about do you?"
Then Mom giggled. "I really don't, no."
"Why did you agree with me?"
"I didn't know what you were talking about, but I know we feel the same, so I assumed I agree with you."
We cackled all the way home.
Big Mama's got my back - even when I'm wrong.
Additionally, and unrelated, Mom has this life affliction where small inconveniences are drawn to her with a magnetic pull. They are not unique inconveniences; getting stuck behind a tractor when you're running late, being forgotten in a doctor's office waiting room, choosing the stall with no toilet paper, etc, but you can almost count on them to all find Mom on the same day. It is typical for Mom to have a few intentions for a day, only one of them urgent or important, and that will be the one task that is thwarted by the universe. This is so well documented that it is barely news to anyone anymore. Dad often accuses her of "complaining," but Mom and I know it is something insidiously focused on her. And because she is so polite, she usually accommodates the inconvenience, accepting it with patient grace - at lest until she calls and tells me about it. On rare occasions she attempts to stand up for herself, and typically that backfires. There is no justice for Nanny U, and she and I find it outrageous. What is it about her?
Just last week we popped into a cafe for coffee before running a couple errands together. We enjoyed our mugs and shared a pastry and then said, 'Ok, lets get going, we're on a tight schedule." We ambled down the sidewalk and rounded the corner only to find Mom's car surrounded - completely blocked in by an assortment of obstacles. Four school buses were parked in the road, trapping the car in place. A huge walking tour blocked the sidewalk on the passenger side. Roughly 100 kindergarteners filled the street, pouring out of a nearby playhouse and filing into the buses. No other cars seemed to be blocked in. Only Mom's.
"Bluh!" Mom grumbled.
Just another day.
I was thinking on all this - her and my internal equivalency and the hilariously exasperating ways she is hassled by existence and I laughed out loud for a few minutes all alone in my office. I just like her so much.
It's a sincere joy, however selfish, to be a clone of your soulmate.
