My mother was bubbling over with enthuasiasm and happiness when I rang her at work early this afternoon. I don't recall her ever being so bubbly before.

"Your father said that I'm a seminar junkie!"
"Omg, what did you do? Where did you go?"
"Well, on Sunday, I was at a motivational seminar."
"Motivational?"
"Yes. The presenter, oh, he was very good. He failed his LCE, and now .. "
"LCE?"
"Lower Certificate of Education. Look at him now."
"Omg, Mum, you really are a junkie! I thought you were doing some financial course thing."
"Yes, I am, I was. Unit trusts! Financial management! I want to do more."
"Good lord, Mum!"

"I wish my parents had told me of such things. I'm doing all sorts now, and I'm passing all that knowledge to you all. Did you know that writing pays pretty well?"
"Yes, Mum, I did."
"You write so well, surely you could make some money on the side as you teach. All those experiences. Go out and experience."
"Uh-huh. Yes, Mum."
"Wish I had the chance to do all these things when I was younger. Getting older you know. I'm 50 next year, did you know that?!"
"Oh really, Mum? Omg."

I was bemused. She sounded ... young. I don't remember ever hearing her so young. She has always sounded like my mother - older, serious, mature, a figure of authority, a respected elder, someone to be obeyed in an instant. If she said, "Jump", I would say, "How high?" If she said (and she did, once), "Livia, I do not think you should go out with that boy. He does not look respectable," I would grumble a lot, but I would call the boy and say, "Um, sorry, nope. Can't make it."

Mum now sounds like a dearly loved friend.

How about that?

Wow.