It was the summer of 1972 and my mother’s parents were visiting. To say my mother’s relationship with her mother was complicated is an understatement. I never realized how complicated it was until dementia brought it front and center. When I was growing up, she mostly kept it to herself.
In 1972 we lived in a slowly developing neighborhood full of woods and rolling hills full of grass-gone-to-hay by mid-summer. On one afternoon while Mom and her mother were shopping, I sought out the solitude of the nearest hay filled hillside to sit and daydream. It was a romantic experience for a twelve-year old. Daydreaming has always been my favorite activity and, when I was young, finding special places to daydream was, well, special.
When Mom and my grandmother drove by on their way home, I saw my grandmother point at me. I smiled and waved back at them. Later, Mom told me that when my grandmother saw me she said,
“What’s she doing out there?”
Mom said, “I don’t know.”
“You’d better bring her inside.”
“She’s fine! Leave her alone.” 
When Mom told me about it later, I thought my grandmother’s interest in stopping my activity strange and I was confused that my mother had argued with her mother about me. But it warmed my heart that she’d defended me.
Through the years, when that memory has returned, I’ve wondered if, in that conversation, my mother defended me or herself; in as much as daughters tend to be extensions of their mothers.
But today, while watching the CBS Sunday Morning show, I caught an interview that offered me an “ah-ha” moment and a thrill in regards to that memory, my daydreaming habit, and my parents’ positive regard for their daughter.
Mo Rocca interviewed Zoe Kazan, the young actress and screen writer of (my favorite) one of this summer’s independent films, Ruby Sparks, in which she co-stars with her real life boyfriend, Paul Dano. Zoe is Elia Kazan’s grand-daughter and the daughter of screenwriters Nicholas Kazan and Robin Swicord. She comes from a talented Hollywood family that appreciates the creative process.
While describing her childhood, she said, “…if I wanted to come home and just daydream on the couch for four hours, they would make sure that I was undisturbed, because they knew that there was value in just sitting there and thinking up stories.”
When I heard her say that, I remembered my parents never interrupted my daydreaming unless there was some reason for it – like, if it was a time of day a specific chore was required of me or it was time to go somewhere. Otherwise, they left me to it.
The self-effacing side of me always thought I was left alone to daydream because daydreaming didn’t disturb anyone. I wasn’t demanding any attention when I was daydreaming. But maybe they respected the value of my creative process.
Because she’s dealing with Alzheimer’s Disease, I can’t check in with my mom now to find out if I was simply less of a nuisance when daydreaming or if she understood it was like a hobby for me and I could be trusted with it.
As a kid I wrote poetry and some stories. I also staged stuff. When I was about eight years old I got a hold of an astrology book and set up our living room like I was an astrology reader and read all my family members’ astrology from the little book. It was a like a play. And at more than one Christmas, I dressed up Barbie and Ken like Mary and Joseph, set them in a manger scene with some little doll for the baby Jesus, used my desk lamp light for a stage light on them, and had my family come to my bedroom door to “watch” the scene while I narrated the story from a child’s book about the birth narrative.
Mom was an artist, something she mostly saw as a hobby until she became an art teacher in the 1980’s. I wonder how much she daydreamed about works of art before they got created on canvas or developed into craft projects.
I bet it wasn’t just that I wasn’t a nuisance when I was daydreaming. I bet she understood. 
At any rate, on a midsummer’s day in 1972, my mother was brave and defended me and my favorite way to spend time to her mother. And afterwards, she told me about it. That is one of my favorite memories of my mom.
