I love my mother a lot

I really do. I look like her side of the family. I inherited many of her traits. No one loves me more. She's always the first one to offer help - no matter how large the task.

Even if she throws out the occasional brilliant comment like - "Is it that you don't want a boyfriend?" or "Wouldn't it be great if you moved back home?" - she's still my mommy.

Yesterday night we were on the phone.

Ma: I was speaking to your Aunt Franca (in the photo) last Sunday . She was asking about you.

Me: That's nice. What did you say?

Ma: That you were busy at work, as usual. That's it!

That's when it hit me. My mother knows very little about my life. She knows the general outlines, but things that are important to me aren't important to her.

For my mother, highlights are health, employment, real estate, marital status, having children.

If I was to sum up my life, there would be a lot more to say:

• I write stuff. I make up stories in my head and I write them down and they're good.
  
• I really love teaching yoga and it's becoming an important part of my life.
• I have vast community of friends, fellow artists and colleagues who support, inspire and love me every day.
  
• I'm a good copywriter but am excited about transitioning into online community management.
• I love movies and music and dance - especially ballet, tango and contemporary.
• If I could do stuff over and pick a new career, I would be a dancer and dance for Hofesh Schecter.
• Nothing makes me heart beat faster than a smart boy with a nice pair of glasses.
• I'm becoming a fabbo vegetarian cook.

All of these small things make my life an endless source of wonder, but they only have minimal register with my mother. We are two creatures born in different times, with different experiences, but I still wish there was a way I could communicate even some of this to her in language she could understand.