From the Editor: May/June 2026
For me, this season is redefining what it means to vacillate between two roles: mothering my own mother and mothering my almost 21-year-old daughter. It’s a see-saw that touches on extremes. My mother is an octogenarian who suffers from dementia, exploring a world that neither of us knows how to handle. My daughter is navigating independence and creating her own becoming. It’s a world full of freedom and finding out what works on her terms.
I’m struggling to understand how to reconcile these different versions of mothering.
Sometimes my mother shows up, wanting to mother me. In a span of an hour she’ll ask me if I’ve eaten at least five times. During my childhood, food was her love language. She’d make handmade rotis, dal, vegetables and rice every night. Not the quick, processed stuff, but dishes that take a few hours to prep and cook. She’d command her dining table, playing chef and mother, watching my sister and me eat until we finished everything on our plates. It was understood that we would wash our hands and clear the table.
I now watch my mom clear her plate; I tell her to finish her fruit or vegetables. I hike up her sleeves so she doesn’t get food all over the cuffs and then wipe her mouth when she’s finished. When she’s ready to leave the dining table, she always asks, “Did you eat?” I always say yes because that’s how my mother mothers these days. I shapeshift into her long-ago daughter, even though that’s a world neither of us will experience again.
I find myself repeating the same phrase to my daughter over the phone: “Did you eat?” And I see all three of us morph into one even though we’re all in different decades of our lives. And somehow I understand that there isn’t anything to reconcile. This moment is about accepting where I am and showing up how I can.
The weight of acceptance is sometimes hard to carry, but it’s necessary for some sense of stillness, of retaining a center even while pulled in opposite directions. That’s my wish for all my fellow mamas too: to accept where you are in your motherhood journey, the pieces you remember from your past and now, understanding that all of it blurs together and perhaps the journey goes on.
4 replies on “From the Editor: May/June 2026”
“I shapeshift into her long-ago daughter, even though that’s a world neither of us will experience again.” This is so moving, Rudri. Sending love as you continue to show up how you can.
What a poignant piece! And beautifully written.
So much about Motherhood is a constant balancing act of guiding and letting go. From the very instant a child comes into our world, we nurture, yet encourage and applaud independence. With our mothers, we are intent on separating, but the coming together at the end brings its own rewards. I am not denying the difficulty of doing so-it can be exhaustive, grinding, and soul-depleting. But it is temporary. My time of caregiving for parents and seeing my daughters leave home has ended. I remember it as one of the most challenging and painful chapters of my own life. But there also was the beauty of shared memories and knowing our mothers in ways we were not otherwise able to know them. It was not until I reached that stage that i think i even recognized my mother as a person, and not just “Mom”. I would say just do the best you can and be kind to yourself.
I’m in a similar situation. The dichotomy of caring for parents while also seeing children, who are gaining independence, is a different reality than I expected.
It’s not easy, but there’s also something very sacred about being in this place. I always appreciate hearing from others who are in the same space.