To Me, At Forty-four Years

My Mother, Whom I Love Dearly, Has Continually Revised My Life Story Within The Context Of A Complicated Family History That Includes More Than The Usual Share Of Divorce, Step-children, Dysfunction, And Obfuscation. I've Spent Most Of My Adult Life Attempting To Deconstruct That History And Separate Fact From Fiction.

Although I Was Raised Jewish, My Upbringing Didn't Include Any Formal Religious Education Or Training.

Thank God I Have Four Sons. The Mother/daughter Relationship Is One Of Mankind's Great Mysteries, And For Womankind, It Can Be Hellaciously Complicated. My Mother And I Are Quintessential Examples Of The Rewards And Frustrations, And The Joys And Infuriations It Can Yield.

My Therapist Shared A Theory She Had Come Across, And I Liked It. It Held That Before Making Your Next Journey In This Life, Your Soul Sits At A Large, Circular Conference Table And Chooses The Souls Who Are Going To Be A Part Of Your Life. As For Which Particular People Would Be Chosen, I Figured They Would Be Individuals From Previous Lives With Whom There Was Still Unfinished Business.

To Me, At Forty-four Years Old, My Book Was A Search For Truth And Identity.