Blessing #22 -- A fight

Came across this the other day on social media. It's a still photo of Juaqin Phoenix (SP) from the movie Her. 

It was shot at night so I wasn't actually sitting in my office creating groundbreaking campaigns that would never see the light of day due to corporate timidity -- internal and external.

But the visual triggered a memory. Not an altogether pleasant one, but memorable nonetheless. And funny in hindsight.

Couples fight. 

Married couples fight more, because they're committed to each other and obliged to make things work, no matter how painful. This fight between Deb and I was different. I say different because of the time and place it occurred.

We were on our way to the movies, more specifically we were on our way to see Her. I was curious to see the scenes of Chiat/Day in the background. And the subject matter, a man falling in and out of love with an Artificial Intelligent woman seemed intriguing.

On the way to the theater (pre-Covid times), Deb got a phone call from one of our daughters. For discretionary purposes I won't say which one. She was upset about something. Nothing too unusual as all teenage daughters get upset about something -- a perceived slight, a broken nail,  a lost sweater. The guy at Wing Stop forgot to include Blue Cheese dressing. Who knows?

I don't recall what brought on the tears. I only know that the unwarranted drama was stepping on our alone time.

I asked Deb to shelve the angstrom-sized angst. But, as maternal instincts go, Deb had the empathy for two mothers. Like a mama bear protecting her cubs, she just couldn't turn it off. And didn't, even though the trailers for upcoming movies had exhausted themselves and we were about to watch Juquain (SP) work his silver screen magic.

And that's when things got Meta.

Because, much to the dismay of our movie-going neighbors, Deb and I proceeded to argue, via text, seated right next to each other for the entire film. It was like a scene out of a movie but ironically enough, it was during a movie.

"Let her deal with her own problems"

"You don't understand."

"Correction, I don't want to understand. I want to watch the movie."

"I'm not going to ignore my daughter when she's hurting."

"Didn't we read that book, The Blessings of Skinned Knee?"

"You're breath stinks, take a mint."

Years later, we laughed about the quietest fight we ever had. 

And I would laugh about it now if I could. But I'm coming to the painful realization that while I was and continue to be a good provider for my girls, I am a poor substitute for a mama bear. 

Note to Self: try not to fix everything.

And listen.