In her mid-eighties, forty years after the fact, my mother has slowly realized that I got very little attention, positive or negative, after my father died, simply because I didn't "need" it. In my early fifties, forty years after the fact, as I raise my only child, I've slowly realized that you know, it might have been nice to get, say, a dinner out when I got named one of two National Merit finalists at my school,* or just a little praise for consistently getting good grades and not getting in trouble. I realized in a conversation with my younger brother a week ago that he, and most likely all my siblings, had no idea that I was in a pilot accelerated math program, and placed 14th in the state on a contest algebra test in high school.** I had no idea until I found the certificates ten years after the fact. I mean, I must have known, but I'm honestly not sure I even told my mother at the time.

(I am, however, never getting over my mom letting my older brother demand that she stop helping pay for my college halfway through my junior year, because that was when he had flunked out, and she didn't pay when he started at another school three years later.)

But, yeah: when my mom says, "I guess I didn't give you much attention," and all I can say is, "I didn't really need it," I'm really lying. I guarantee that daughter is keenly aware just what her mother's idea of "fair" was.

*And yes, that and $5 will get me a cup of coffee today, but at the time, is was a pretty big deal. My godmother saw it in the paper and sent me flowers.
** And yes, it was just an algebra test, but my self esteem is kind of in the toilet right now, so gimme this one.