Mother's Day

Mother’s Day. A day of flowers and cards and phone calls and sweet “Thank you’s”, and looking into the eyes either in this world or our mind’s eyes of the woman who first hugged and kissed us.

This is my second Mother’s Day without my mother. I still can hardly believe that she isn’t here in the flesh but my truth is that I can hear her voice in my head after she picks up the phone, post stroke, and says “Hello Francie, how are you today?” and I can hear her laugh when I begin to recount my saga of the moment and then her answer of “Oh my!”.

Mothers. How more complicated can any relationship be than mothers and daughters?

When I was 10 years old I decided for Mother’s Day that I wanted to buy my mother something. We were living in India and we had visited an English shop together where I had spied a little box in the shape of a plaid beret with a bottle of perfume tucked into the middle. I fancied this and as we walked home I fell slightly behind her as I conjured up a plan to acquire it and watched her hips sway back and forth. I said “Mommy, you’re so pretty”. She turned around laughing and said ‘Oh don’t be silly! I have a nose that’s much too long and my hips are too big”. All I had ever noticed was that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen and now I had to notice what she pointed out. Lifetimes later, as a mother myself, one day one of my daughters said “Mommy, you’re so pretty” to me. My mind flipped back the pages in a whirr and my answer was “I know. You’re so lucky to have such a pretty Mama’! Life had taught me to build every positive notion that I possibly could in my young daughter’s minds around their Mama because the day would come when all kinds of shoes would fall on how beautiful they perceived me to be!

Mom. Oh Mom. The life that you infused our family with! Not always joyous to say the least but who would any of us be without you having been at the bow of the ship? I’m speechlessly grateful that you and I healed our chasms. My mother, myself. Is this true? Yes. Now that you are not on this earth I see how deeply my soul reactions mirror yours. Yes, I can hear your voice, your laugh, your critiques, your sorrows. I can see your face and feel your hands. Happy Mother’s Day Mom, up there, in here, and thank you.