What is it about Mothers and Daughters that never ends? Is it the love is it a co-dependency? Is it it simply the recognition of one's self in the other? Or is it more than that: recognizing one's self as other. And so this has been a reminder of my own daughterness. Following on the heels of my visit to my own mother there is a sense of continuity, a sense of flow in the nuturing and witnessing that inevitably happens. Is there any thought, any statement more destructive than "your mother doesn't like you"? Dylan Moran retaliates against a roommate with that very idea: "Your mother is glad you didn't ring her up!" My truth is that my Mum is glad I when I don't ring her up! She hands the phone off to my Dad or doesn't pick up if she sees me on the caller id. And there are lots of daughters with the same stuff happening. Living with their mother's rejection, disapproval, conditional love. In our compulsion to be "good mothers" we lose sight of our daughters' authenticity and privilege to make their own decisions, even when they appear to be mistakes. I married twice without inviting my mother's attendence or seeking her opinion. And even now, I feel that I don't know her. She remains a shadowy mystery. Our difference is that I have one daughter and she has four. Four chances, four choices, four relationships, four worlds. Like the Washburn swim team, I realize I will always be finishing last. And there is comfort in that: one only competes with one's personal best.