i still remember the moment i decided i wasn't going to hold my mum's hand any more.
we were walking along the pavement towards our house, and i suddenly took my hand from hers and hung back so that i was walking alone.
i knew i had done something significant and i can remember the look on mum's face.
it was a sad face.

i was twenty eight years old.
no, not really - that was a joke...

but later, when i was 28 and my first marriage had broken up, i caught jaundice during a weekend visit to see mum and it was a nasty time. she persuaded me to stay till i felt better, and i felt completely smothered by her attention. 
i probably wasn't very nice to her and i feel bad about that now.
it was her last chance to feel like she was mothering me, i suppose.
but i just felt trapped, like a cat in a bag.

i don't suppose i'll ever understand the feeling mothers go through when the kids achieve independence.
in some cases, i know it is a cause for celebration.
but in others, it must be a big emotional wrench.