Our theme for the month of March is “I was wrong about.”
I’m the youngest of three daughters. Growing up, we were often referred to as the McKee girls—the three of us looking just enough alike that it was clear we were sisters but not too much alike that it got confusing.
As the youngest, I spent the most solo time with my mom. She had stepped away from her career by the time I was born, and a three year age gap between me and my middle sister meant that I had a few solo years with my mom. Those years consisted of Caribou Coffee dates, sometimes meeting with my mom’s bible study, sitting in dressing rooms of JC Penny’s and other dead 90s department stores, and of course those few months when I watched The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe every day after my half day kindergarten class.
During those years, my mom was my best friend. I spent more time with her than anyone else. I was learning from her then and I never stopped learning from her. She grew up as I was growing up. She learned how to manage a coffee shop housed in a mega church dealing with egos even more mega than the church. She stood up for us even when we didn’t deserve it, and she also made sure to correct us when we did.
I remember once when I was fifteen, a student driver, I was driving with my mom on a one lane road that merged into two. I was obliviously driving in the middle of the two lanes for only a few seconds before getting honked at. I screeched into the left lane, and the perpetrator (victim?) came up on our right, angry and ready to tell us. My mom, without missing a beat, rolled down her window, cutting off his complaints of my driving. She said something like, “Oh calm down, she’s a student driver!” As soon as the man drove away she rolled up her window, turned to me, and said, “What in the world are you doing? You need to pay attention and not drive in the middle of two lanes!” She had my back in public and corrected me in private.
In a recent phone conversation with my mom, she asked, based on something someone else said, if I was comfortable talking to her and telling her things or if there was something she did to make it hard to do that. If so, she wanted to change, to be sure we could always come to her.
My sisters and I received so much effort and attention that I ultimately forgot there was always a fourth McKee girl hanging out behind the scenes making sure our needs were met and keeping the magic alive. I know moms are moms and are not necessarily on the same hierarchical level as siblings, but as I’ve grown older I’ve come to realize that my mom has always been my counterpart—I was wrong to see her as anything else.
I told my mom that was ridiculous, that I felt comfortable with her and that she never did anything to dissuade me from telling her things.
But what I wished I said is that even though I’m almost thirty and married that my heart still yearns for Caribou runs and dressing room dates. That she’s the first person I want when I’m sick. I wish I told her that my propensity to keep things to myself is my own problem and that maybe I was raised so independently that I have a hard time relying on other people. Watching her manage everything made me manage so well, too well. The effort it takes me to get out of my own head isn’t a reflection of her shortcomings, but rather a reflection of her strengths—raising a daughter who trusts her instincts and her inner voice.
I was wrong about my mom, because she’s not just a role model. She’s the fourth McKee girl. While she has leaps and bounds more knowledge than I do, she also has similar doubts and questions.
At the end of the day she just wants to know her daughters. And I hope she knows how desperately this one wants to know her too.
Julia is a 2018 graduate and studied English literature and business marketing during her time at Calvin. A Chicagoland native, she now resides in Grand Rapids, MI and works as a brand and marketing officer. She spends her free time reading fantasy novels, sweating in her gym’s sauna, renovating her almost 100-year-old house, and crafting according to her current creative fixation.
