It hit me way too hard for 9:45 on a Thursday morning.The point of the original work was to look from the standpoint of a parent with a child being diagnosed as anything other than neurotypical. I took it in another way-It's much like my family's reaction to realizing I'm a lesbian.
"When you're going to have a baby, it's like you're planning a vacation to Italy. You're all excited. You get a whole bunch of guidebooks, you learn a few phrases so you can get around, and then it comes time to pack your bags and head for the airport.
Only when you land, the stewardess says, 'WELCOME TO HOLLAND."
You look at one another in disbelief and shock, saying, "HOLLAND? WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I SIGNED UP FOR ITALY."
But they explain that there's been a change of plan, that you've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
"BUT I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HOLLAND!" you say. 'I DON'T WANT TO STAY!"
But stay you do. You go out and buy some new guidebooks, you learn some new phrases, and you meet people you never knew existed. The important thing is that you are not in a bad place filled with despair. You're simply in a different place than you had planned. It's slower paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy, but after you've been there a little while and you have a chance to catch your breath, you begin to discover that Holland has windmills. Holland has tulips. Holland has Rembrandt's.
But everyone else you know is busy coming and going from Italy. They're all bragging about what a great time they had there, and for the rest of your life, you'll say, "YES, THAT'S WHAT I HAD PLANNED."
The pain of that will never go away. You have to accept that pain, because the loss of that dream, the loss of that plan, is a very, very significant loss. But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to go to Italy, you will never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things about Holland."
-Emily Perl Kingsley

Upon hearing this story

I was in tears.

I realized I was Holland.

I sent it to my mother,

With no context of course.

Answering very matter of fact, as my mother always has-

"What was that for, I like it."

"I thought you would, I am your Holland, aren't I?"

I awaited her response already knowing the answer

"Yes, but it turns out I love Holland,

more than the stars in the sky, or all the blades of grass."

This sentence meant more to me than she would ever know-

I often joke that my mother

'tolerates me to the highest degree'

But, I know there is love in there somewhere,

Whether or not it always shows.

She may never accept me as Holland,

but she knows I'm not Italy.

Maybe that's all I can ask from her.

To the world she may pretend that I am Florence, as my sister is Rome-

But I don't see the fun in that.

Many times at family gatherings, those I bring are introduced differently.

"So this is Italy's Boyfriend Greece, and this is Holland's- Well, this is Holland's 'friend' Germany."

Yes maybe not everyone accepts Holland-

And yes, maybe where I'm from,

We pretend that Holland isn't real,

Or that Holland is confused-

Just Florence trying to be something it is not.

But I'm proud.

Knowing-

that I am Holland.

Because I know, Holland has a lot to offer.

And maybe,

Holland isn't as different from Italy as you might think.