A Series of Short Stories by Sarah Simpson

Recently, I have been thinking about how strange it is that, to me, the story of my mother's childhood and youth seem entirely separate from the story of my mother's marriage and motherhood. There really is only one story: the story of her life, but in my mind, I am unable to fuse the two sides together. It's almost as if there is an intermission between the point where she becomes a Bachelor of Arts and the point where she is introduced to my father.

Whilst thinking about this concept, I said to myself, It's just because she's my mother, and the things that happened before I was born seem like a story in a book, and the things that happen while I am alive seem like reality. However, I immediately discredited that idea because I find the story of my own life to be segmented in a similar way. The childhood prior to school seems entirely separate from the childhood during school, and even then, the school years before meeting Amy seem entirely separate from the school years after that point. I think those are the points at which, if my life were a film, they would insert a new actress. The credits would read "Sarah at three," "Sarah at seven," "Sarah at eleven." Certain points in my past seem unreal, as if I don't really remember them. I just remember remembering them.

I have an image in my mind of myself as a mother, but that person is entirely different from myself at the present. I can't imagine this portion of my life leading into that portion of my life. (I certainly won't have acne, right? Of course, I'll be more assertive.) There must be an intermission during which the set dressing, costume and make-up can be changed.

For example, when I was little, I tasted my mom's tea, and I thought it was repulsive. It tasted like leaves (That's what it is after all). I knew how leaves tasted. I was in the habit of eating them or sticking them up my nose. My mom told me that it was an acquired taste. She said that there are some things that you have to grow to like. To me, this meant that it was something only grown ups liked, so when I was grown up, I would like it. This concept also applied to coffee, coconut, almonds, and whatever that sickening filling was in the chocolates I always managed to select from the candy box. Now, technically, I am grown up. I can drive a car. I can vote. I can buy cigarettes. But I still don't like tea. It tastes like leaves. I still somehow think that there will be a point at which suddenly, something will click and I'll like tea.

I am constantly waiting for that "click." Suddenly, my brothers and I will be parents, my parents will be grandparents, and my grandma will be even greater than she already is.

I want my mom to tell me her story from start to finish (or at least to the present) without intermission so that I might be able to see my life in the same way: as a novel rather than as a series of short stories. This seems essential to me because really, her story leads into mine. I am a sequel. How can I understand the events in my story without knowing what came before it?