This almost makes me chuckle in a rueful kind of way.
I believe my mother loved me like this once. I want to believe this. I will try. When I was a baby. I hope so. You know I was quite premature. Almost 3 months. I like to belief that my celebrity (I was famous to a point) endowed me (to her) with a certain grandiosity that enabled her to prize me for a time. I hope so.
Something enabled me to survive. It could not have been only my father and grandmother. For me to have loved my mother so much she must have loved me (and shown me that) for at least a time.
I believe my sister loves her daughters in a way like that, but it is colored by her need to see herself and them as privileged and powerful and entitled in relation to others that are not. There is aggression here. I know I am Germany now. But there is a sense of the Aryan exclusion. An elevation as an ideal. My sister does not in her heart feel superior, I think. But she needs to feel her children are, to satisfy this unmet need. When will we ever tire of this? I am getting tired of my sister. I would rather focus on us.
COPA
