Within his own mind, Proust wrote a novel describing the inner workings of mind, body, memory, and personal identity. Proust opens his mind to the memory and identity, how memory affects and contributes to personal identity. When the protagonist of the novel describes the memories of his mother and her kiss, it triggers a similar feeling in me. As a young boy, the narrator goes through an inner conflict of waiting until his mother came up the staircase to kiss her or go to bed without his mothers kiss. Similar to the young boy, I had an inner conflict whether to kiss my mother good night or not. Until about the age of 10, I depended on my mother for everything. She told me when to eat and what to eat, what to wear and how to wear it, and how to live my daily life. I felt like my mother was me, just a larger version. The young boy struggled with his decision the way I struggled with mine, he made a decision based on what his mother would think of him not of what his consequences would be. I would have the same sense of mind, as I grew older the conflicts in my mind regarding my mother ceased to exist in the way they used to. I learned to find myself in a way that I never knew existed, the memory of my mother being everything about me allowed me identify myself away from her. My mother loved me in a way different from she loved my sisters, she always assured that I had everything I needed and wanted. The connection between Proust and his mother opens my mind to how my mothers love was “normal” in its own way. Throughout my life, and in the current moments, I finally realize, I have my own normal and my own sense of identity.