Versions of My Mother

by Kathi Crawford

I.

In this version, you and I are home together baking cinnamon oatmeal raisin cookies. You bring construction paper in assorted colors and a box of Crayola crayons to the dining room table. This was the year before you went to work full-time, and I started kindergarten. We are home alone—

my brothers at school and dad on shift at the steel mill. We sit across from each other and make shapes—whales, windmills, and wagon wheels. Here, I’m not crying at the door watching you walk away from me. It’s just us girls. I have all of your attention.

II.

In this version, you don’t need my help with washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen every night. There’s a babysitter for my youngest brother, so I can hang out at my neighbor’s house, listen to Jim Croce’s I Got a Name on the record player in my bedroom, or stay overnight at a friend’s house. I am not his de facto “mother” while you and Dad work late and my three older brothers are out.

III.

In this version, it’s not awkward to ask you questions about what it feels like when you are attracted to someone, the rules of dating, and how to set boundaries. You tell me it’s best to be in love with someone before having sex with them, but, just in case, you take me to Planned Parenthood for birth control pills. When the boy I sit behind in Algebra class and I make our way to the back seat of a car on graduation night, I am not terrified the morning after that I might be pregnant.

IV.

In this version, you are eager to meet my live-in boyfriend, Greg, when you arrive in Texas from Ohio. We erase that first year after I moved away when you didn’t talk to me at all—angry you lost your personal assistant. Instead, we talk to each other on the phone once a week. I tell you about my new job, what it’s like to work for my boss, what I am learning about myself, and about falling in love with Greg. You hear me without making it about you.

V.

In this version, the first time you meet my future husband, Tim, you welcome him into your home in Ohio, invite him to sit in the living room, and learn about who he is instead of avoiding him for hours. You accept our invitation to join us for our destination wedding in Alaska. You want to be part of our lives and visit us a couple of times a year in Texas. I no longer fall into the trap of trying to earn your love. You are grateful for me just as I am.

VI.

In this version, I don’t need to create emotional and physical distance between us to protect myself. I don’t need to take back my life. It was never lost to you. I don’t need to grieve the mother I wish you could be. I am with you in the hospital when you die, and you want me to be there because you love me.

BIO: Kathi Crawford, a Houston-based writer and founder of People Possibilities (2008), is a business and career coach guiding organizations and individuals through transitions. Her chapbook, consider the light (Finishing Line Press, May 2025), is a mix of poetry and creative nonfiction and offers intimate reflections on life’s complexities. Recently her work has appeared in BULL, The Bayou Review, Unlikely Stories, and Flash Frontier. Connect with her on Instagram or LinkedIn @kathicrawford or subscribe to her blog at kathicrawford.com.