My sister called my mother. She told my mother that her younger daughter was upstairs packing for a trip to South America. My mother asked if she could wish her granddaughter a good trip, and say good-bye to her. My sister refused to interrupt her daughter’s packing.
In my opinion, my sister was wrong. As a child, I’d have been thrilled to hear my mother say my sister was wrong about anything. “Why can’t you be good, like your little sister?” But, I know from her emails that my sister was having a rotten day. And I know that saying No to our mother has been a hard won battle for my sister. So, while this was upsetting for my mother, and probably for her younger daughter, if she finds out about it, I’d rather my mother practice forgiveness than indulge her in a grouch-fest.
I’d have enjoyed agreeing with my mother that my sister was wrong. But the price was too high.
So, I defended my sister. Told my mom about my sister’s bad day. Asked my mom to try to understand. And felt guilty the whole time because my mother is the one who taught us about right and wrong.