A Spoilt Friendship

My mother spoilt a friendship

This one is more mundane.  And yet when I discussed it in counselling, it was the one thing that brought me to tears.

I was about thirteen.  I had a paper round and over many months, perhaps over a year, I saved up to buy a bike.  And I bought a rather nice touring bike at a local shop.  From the outset, I developed a friendship with the couple who ran the shop and we got onto first name terms.  I would call in every so often to buy components, get adjustments done or ask for advice, and it was one of the first set of friendships I had struck up with people much older than me from my own initiative.  I had held older people in awe up to that time, seeing them as authority figures, finding it hard to relate in a free, friendly way.  So I enjoyed calling in occasionally.

But one day, my mum became annoyed with the shop for some reason.  I can’t remember what it was.  She took it upon herself to take me to the shop and, with me present, she complained to the shop keepers.  From that point onwards, I was unable to go back into that shop.  A good friendship I had developed had been spoiled by my mother.  I felt that I had been robbed of a precious little part of my life, and the hurt from this only seemed to come out in counselling.

I’ve said it already.  It looks trivial.  Of all the horrid things adults do to children, this seems so petty.  But I was reduced to tears when I shared it.