Is my daughter holier than thou? Does she hate weed and wine because she sees her mother swilling wine? “Come on, give me a break, I have had a really terrible few years, you know that,” I will say. “We lost your dad, my husband of thirty years, to melanoma in 2007. I look forward to a glass or two of wine at the end of the day. I’m lonely, depressed. Wine helps.”
“Mother, I do drink. I sometimes have vodka with cranberry juice at parties, but just one. I am driving, you know. And yes, there is weed at the parties. And at school, you can buy any drug you want, from pills to weed to cocaine.”
“Heroin,” I ask?
“Yes, mother,” she said.
This is reality. It was reality in my time, and it is reality in my daughter’s time. I remain in awe of my child, my only child, my Lili. Her father and I traveled to China to adopt her in 1994, the best thing either of us ever did in life. She is inscrutable in many ways, adult beyond her years, with the wisdom of the ages deep inside her. She knows who she is, what she stands for, what she will and will not do. She’s way ahead of her mother.