I was recently reminded of the black stain. For as long as I can remember there has been a black stain on anything that I touch. If you don't believe me just ask my mom.
I gave her a patio set a few weeks ago. I gave it to her because of the decrepit condition of her wicker patio set which belonged to my grandmother. I had a patio set that had never been outside and my apartment was too crowded so I thought it would make a wonderful mother's day/birthday present. I even offered to haul her blackened wicker chairs to the dump they look so bad, but she turned me down.
She was very pleased with the patio set and I was happy that she was happy. I called her about a week later and she happened to mention that she had hired someone to "get the black stain" off of the cushions. She was so happy that it was almost gone. That's the thing about the black stain. It never goes away, no matter how much you scrub. I am finally realizing that the stain is not anything to do with me. It is my mom's problem.
A couple of years ago I loaned her my "Pam and Rhonda" Christmas dolls which she loved. She was sitting there admiring them when she blurted out. "Oh no! There is a black stain across Pam's face!" I couldn't see it but she insisted it was there. The next day it had mysteriously disappeared.
When we were kids I would clean the bathroom tub sometimes 7 or 8 times before the "black stain" would go away. I never did see it. I would just go back and scrub the tub over and over from top to bottom until she was satisfied. That black stain has caused me more misery than I want to think about.
With age comes understanding, I guess. I think I finally understand that the black stain is within her - it is NOT a tangible thing.