The Day I Met My Mother

by Karen J Mossman

 

This story has hung around in my head for twenty odd years. Now and again it pops up and it still makes me chuckle. The question I always asked myself was how did I not know my own mother!

It isn’t a big story, it will take but a few words, which is why I haven’t told it before. Then this morning I came across this article by author Carole Parkes. Apart from it making me chuckle, I identifided when she said that she didn’t understand why she didn’t recognise herself.

My story is simply that I was travelling in the car one day whilst on holiday. We’d just left my family and waved goodbye. I was idly staring out of window watching the other cars go by. This car over took us and a woman looked at me and smiled. I stared back wondering why a strange woman was smiling at me. A few seconds later I realised it was my mum! I hadn’t recognise, why? I would know that face and smile anywhere, but in that moment, I saw the face of a stranger. How weird.

Do read Carole’s short article as I’m sure it will make you chuckle, as well.

Nana Mum me and Debs

Mum and I in 1989

The Day I met the Other Me

 

6 thoughts on “The Day I Met My Mother

  1. Ha ha. The strange thing is I do that all the time with my sons. They live very near to me, one only a few doors away. In the car when someone waves, I’ll say who was that? Hubby will say, It’s only son number 1, or son number 2. I never recognise them, let alone their cars. I’m the same in my local shopping centre. Someone will say hello and it takes me ages to put a name to the face. Watching a film is equally confusing if there are two females with similar colour and length hair. I’ve heard there’s a thing called Face recognition blindness and often wondered if I have it.

    Like

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