Miss Maybe

So why do I love the little black-and-white vintage woman that appears in most of my posts? Does she bring a cool vintage vibe and just the right amount of sass? Absolutely. But more than that, she reminds me of my mom when she was young. I can picture her in old home movies, dating my dad or newly married, strutting around in pedal pushers or stiletto heels. Before the kids came, before I knew her as “Mom,” she was this stylish young woman who turned my dad’s head.

Now, at 60, I find myself wondering more about her. What did she imagine her life would look like? What did she love doing just for herself? I’ve known her my entire life, but there are questions I’m only now thinking to ask.

My mom is an incredibly gifted musician. Not just good, but the kind of gifted that makes people stop and listen. Carnegie Hall gifted. I’m not sure she sees her talent quite the way the rest of us do, though. I could imagine her touring the world, but I don’t know whether that was ever something she wanted, or even something she pictured as possible.

Being a young woman in the 1950s came with expectations that my generation, and certainly my daughter’s, may struggle to fully understand. I wonder how those expectations shaped what women imagined for themselves. How many dreams were pursued, how many were quietly set aside, and how many never became dreams at all because they didn’t seem like possibilities?

That doesn’t mean my mom wished for a different life. She may have wanted exactly the one she built. I’m just curious about the young woman who was finding her way to it.

My mom was never one to open up much about the vulnerable stuff. She could tell you what happened, but how she felt about it was often harder to get to. Even before her stroke, I didn’t always know what to ask or how to start those conversations.

Since her stroke, I can’t ask those questions in the way I wish I could. That’s a loss I’m still coming to understand. I have the home movies, her music, and the stories I know, but there’s so much I would love to hear in her own words. I wish I’d been curious about that young woman sooner.

I've been thinking about how easy it is to see our mothers only through the lens of being their children. I know what it was like to grow up with my mom, but I don't really know what it was like to be her. What shaped her, what she dreamed about, what she struggled with, or what she might have wanted for herself. Maybe that's something I need to remember more often, especially in those moments when I find myself frustrated or don't understand her. There's a whole lifetime of experiences behind the woman I know as Mom, and I've only been part of some of them.

Thinking about my mother's life also makes me appreciate how much has changed for women. My generation had choices that hers didn't always have, and my daughter has even more. That doesn't mean we can always do everything we want. Life has a way of changing our plans, and sometimes the things we want for ourselves get pushed aside while we take care of everyone and everything else. But I think there's something wonderful about knowing that, no matter what stage of life we're in, we're still allowed to want something more for ourselves.

At 60, I’m learning that I can be there for my family and still make room for something of my own. When I think about my mom, I think about all the different parts of her life, her musical talent, her interests, the things she accomplished, and the choices she made along the way. I wonder how she sees those choices now and what she might have done differently, if anything. I want my daughter to know that she doesn't have to wait until everyone else is settled, or until she has her whole life figured out, to explore what she wants. I'm realizing that at 60, I don't have to wait either.

So that little vintage woman? Let’s call her Miss Maybe. Maybe she’ll sit on the moon. Maybe she’ll climb a flower. Maybe she’ll surprise me with where she ends up next. I kind of like the idea of giving her a few adventures of her own.

She may remind me of my mom, but I get to give her a little life of her own. A place to be curious, have fun, and follow a whim without needing to explain herself. She’s my affectionate little nod to that young woman in the home movies, with a little space to follow her own curiosity and see where it takes her.

Plot twist: Miss Maybe is a little of Mom and me, with less worrying about opinions and more doing what sounds fun.