Mother’s Day

I’ve been thinking about my mother.

No surprise there. Today is Mother’s Day in the US.

I’ve been thinking about her, looking back on her presence in my life.

When I was a little girl, and a teen, then in college.

When I began to make my way in this world. First job, then another, always supporting me as I established my career.

Through various boyfriends over the years, and then meeting Husband. Knowing he was The One.

Marriage, and setting up our first home. The arrival of Son, and four years later, Daughter.

Raising children, doing my best to be as good a mother as I can be.

Through moves across town, across state lines, across an ocean.

My mother has always loved me unconditionally. She’s always wanted the best for me. Always been my biggest supporter.

And as mothers will do, she tends to give advice. Occasionally it’s unwelcome, not unlike I sometimes do with Daughter. I cannot ignore the irony in that.

It’s bracing the first time (and every time thereafter, because there will be such times) you find yourself saying something your mother said, that you’d sworn you’d never say when you became a mother. Humbling as well.

One of the difficult aspects of living so far away is not being able to see your family as much as you’d like.

The years are slipping by, and I’m keenly aware of her age. And thus mine, too, if truth be told. Time is starting to make changes that none of us wants.

I think of my friends who have lost their mothers, and what they wouldn’t give for an opportunity to see them, speak with them once more.

Through other friends I’ve learned of mothers whose neglect and betrayal were so striking that the rifts cannot be mended. In their own way they, too, mourn the loss of their mothers.

I realize that I was blessed with the mother I have, and I hope to let her know that. Often and always.

In eleven days, my parents arrive here for a visit. We’ll have three weeks together, including Son’s high school graduation.

Of course we’ll visit the usual sights, and as with my brother’s recent visit, we’ll share with them our life here.

But I’m really looking forward to just spending time with them.

Talking. Relaxing. Doing things together. Or just knowing they’re in the next room.

Especially my mother.

I’m old enough, and I’d like to think wise enough, to appreciate this opportunity for the gift that it is.


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