Nothing to say

I had a less than satisfying conversation with my mom this evening.  Lately it seems like this has been happening more and more often.  : /

I've come to the conclusion that both my mother and I are depressed.  I hope I'm wrong about my mom, but I know I'm right about me.

My mom and I are at a point in our lives where not much is going on.  She told me years ago that the happiest time in her life was when my brother and I were in high school and college and the house was filled with our friends and she was involved with our activities and athletics.  She didn't look forward to the empty nest years like some women do. 

I don't know why I thought I would be different than my mom.  Maybe because she was a thousand times better mom than I could ever hope to be . . . maybe because she didn't have very many friends and I had (or so I thought) lots of friends . . . maybe because I didn't want to think that I would lose interest in living my own life when my kids grew up and moved on with their own lives?  

Now when we talk on the phone, my mom and I talk about my kids and what they're doing.  If we talk about our own lives, the conversation is brief.  There's just not that much to talk about.