I’m in a different generation than my mother,
and she doesn’t understand my gasping panic
when an entire thesis paper is replaced with
fs, because I saved too fast.

Thank God for control Z, I say,
I am saved.

She laughs at my dramatic gratitude and I think,
she must think God uses a Mac.

When she sees a blue screen of death,
her funny bone is tickled.

She doesn’t see the people trapped inside,
the pictures burning in the flames of a structure
that was once a home.

She laughs at the blue screen and I think,
she could be a maniac.

I’m in a different generation than my mother,
and nothing reminds us of that more
than the piles of paper and news journals
that slip through the space in my house
designed for such things,

by someone who existed
far before I was born.

Did you read this? she asks.

Yes, I tell her,
three days ago when it was written and emailed out.

I didn’t have to wait for the man in blue
to wrestle it from the hands of the factory workers
whose entire career rests on slipping rubberbands
around my mother’s magazines,
so she can read as she sips tea before work.

I laugh at the complexity and I know she thinks,
I must not have a soul that sees the beauty
of a working humanity.

I’m in a different generation than my mother
and we often don’t understand
each other.

She shakes her head when I tell people
I live on the internet, and
that in many ways,
I was even born here.

Her womb tells a different story,
and she was there when she emptied it,

My laundry basket tells a different story,
and she is here,
emptying it.

She sings while she works,
doing what a machine could do faster,
but then,
rumor is, she laughed with joy when
I was born.

She could be a maniac.

I’m in a different generation than my mother
and the things we say to each other
so often sound absurd,
that we laugh.

And in the laughter that starts
on the same note,
and ends on the same upticked sigh,
the magazine articles
emailed and mailed
seem absolutely ridiculous,

because in the most important ways,
the generations aren’t so different
after all.

But then,
I could be a maniac.


This poem is older than dirt, but I thought of it today when I received another article about how to function in a multi-generational home. Then I accidentally deleted an entire file when trying to save it, and thought of it again.

Are there many generations in your home?


  1. I guess if you count the little prince, yes there are different generations in my home. Not that it matters too much because there has always been different generations in my life to learn from, and teach, and love.

    Liked by 4 people

      1. I try not to, actually. I hope to be like my dad, going to concerts with me because he likes the new bands as much as me. And I hope the little prince is like me, going to concerts with my dad because I like the old bands as much as him.

        Liked by 3 people

  2. Currently, three. Mum and WonderAunty (one in bed, one watching the last of the 10’o’clock news as I ‘bunk in’ to her study), Me (wayward, Becoming, temporarily housed stray, typing and probably being a clicketty distraction in the background), and Niece and Neff (adorable, willful, troubled delights, currently asleep in bunk beds, where I will soon join them).

    Liked by 3 people

  3. There are only two generations in my home at this time: my 43 year old self that is old enough to be a gramma if my almost 18 year old ever were to have a baby in the near future, and, my two year old toddler who make some people ask if she is my granddaughter. I’m never quite sure how to respond to that except with a quick, “I’m not quite old enough to be a gramma yet!” πŸ™‚

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Awww, I’ve had people asking if my nephews were my kids since I was 14. It’s funny how important it is for people to figure out the “right” titles. The idea that my now 20 year old nephew could have kids is shocking to me, ha, I can’t imagine how it feels to be the mom! πŸ™‚

      Liked by 2 people

  4. I love this Rara! My mom is in her 80s and recently was gifted a Kindle,a back door way, I thought, to get her ti us email. What is funny that I also was reborn online ( when I birthed my blog), but I do not like reading books online. She, on the other hand, has stated she quite enjoys it. We are quite good as long as we have something to argue about, even if we are taking the least likely positions!

    You do look so much like your mom. You both are bursting with delight and whimsy and apparently, balloons in boxes. Thank her for giving birth to you. Tell her Linda said thanks ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  5. At t moment, I have a stepson (30ish) living with me, so there’s two. The so-called “generation gap” is normal and natural, so you should see things differently from your mom. But the gap closes as you get older. Life’s funny that way. πŸ™‚

    Liked by 2 people

  6. …and she is here, emptying it.
    What a statement yes? Indeed Ra, a mothers womb is never empty, always there, waiting to heal and help in such small profound ways. She sounds traditionally loving.
    (And I too have found more of myself here than out there…such a comfort? A burden when the blue screen appears again? I don’t know, but my life’s work is all behind that screen and I need the wall it shelters me with just now.)

    Liked by 2 people

  7. When I was in Maryland, my landlord was 26 is from Jamaica, my two housemates were in their 20 somethings doing internships from the East Coast, me 52 and my adorable sweet amazing Cameroonian housemates who are at least in their 60s. Annie, the mom mothered us all. I ate more African food during that 3 months than in my entire life. Oh how I miss them! So generational and cultural diversity. I loved it. πŸ™‚
    Now I’m at home with an eight year old cat…does that count? hahaha

    Liked by 2 people

  8. You and Mamasaur have the same sparkly eyes filled with mischief πŸ™‚ There are three generations in our house. Myself, my oldest daughter and son in law and my oldest granddaughter. We are all book nuts, SF aficionados, and lovers of Indian/Asian food. We get along splendiferously.

    Liked by 3 people

  9. Okay seriously, who erases files? Control Z? Really?!! Alright, for reals, being of a different generation than both you AND Mamasaur, I can relate to each one of you differently. Embracing the digital while not yet relaxing my grip on print… for now. And resolving NEVER to let go of the one thing that might possibly hold us all together, forever. The dangerously sensual hardcover book.

    Liked by 4 people

  10. Thank god for control z…yes. It’s just me in my place, but my mom has 3 generations at her place. Mom is 74 and the youngest is 9. They playfully spar about age. My nephew won the latest round by buying one of those talking cards (now I sound old). The punchline was around the word ancient. Everyone had a gut busting laugh, even mom. We are a strange bunch.

    That picture of you and your mom is precious. I’m glad you dug this out of the dirt.

    Love you. ❀

    Liked by 2 people

  11. This made me all weepy on my Wednesday morning. ❀ Your laughs matching…
    The Moms in my life have taught me a lot and I'm blessed to have them.
    Thank you for sharing the sweet picture of your dear Mom. Be well Ra. πŸ˜‰

    Liked by 1 person

  12. I love the sentiment in this! You are good at that! Thought maybe you were getting warmed up for Mother’s day. πŸ™‚ There are currently only 3 generations with the recent loss of Tom’s father but I am hoping to be around for the “Great Grammy” title. Family is soooo important!

    Liked by 1 person

  13. There are only 2 generations in my home. & Yet, the munchkin amazes us with his grasp of technology at such a young age. I could see him getting into the design field like his mama, but hey who knows? He could end up as anything. Loves science and reading.

    You and your Mamasaur. ❀ This tickled my heart. Miss my mama too. She was a sweet lady like your mama.
    Sharing this out for all the mamas. ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  14. what the heck is Control Z? I’d hit it, but I have 52 chapters of my book on this computer and am not at all confident that they are “saved” anywhere!! And where the heck is the Cloud anyway? I just know about the “Hey! You! Get off of my cloud!” cloud. Got a guess as to my generation?

    My son and his childhood friend, and my two grandsons all just moved into my home where I already lived with two guys. I’ll give you a minute to count up how many MEN I live with….

    Loved your poem and always love more of your story.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Where I’m currently living, there’s me at oh-so-very-nearly-36, and two sisters who are somewhere between 75 and 80. They are two very different women, and one is oddly quite like me in a number of ways, and seems to get me and how my brain works. It makes for an interesting life. πŸ˜€

    Love you, Ra, and your mother. ❀

    Liked by 1 person


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