Mother's Day. A celebration of those who give and shape lives. A time to remember and reflect. Nostalgia, fragrance, patterns and lace. I miss my Mom, but never more so than when I look at a piece of crochet, a hook, some thread, an embroidery pattern, hand-thrown ceramic ware. I have 6 kids, but only one will call or write. I'm fine with that, for the other 5 depend on me totally for their existence. The sixth? He's about to leave his nest and I have to prepare.
As I've raised him, I've often wondered what touches, things, fragments will he remember. Which will bring a tear, a smile, small comfort. We can plan lots of things, but what becomes important is time and fate's job. I'm sure my Mom had no idea that one of my most poignant memories was of me trying to take a nap with her. In characteristic fashion, my 4-year-old body wouldn't lay still fast enough for her liking. Funny the things we remember.
I also remember the day she was frustrated with us and tearfully said she knew we thought she was stupid (we were teens). My mind reeled, because this lady who had barely an 8th-grade education knew more foreign languages than anyone I'd ever met. And she taught them to us. I never imagined she suffered self-doubt. Perceptions, assumptions...misleading.
So, gather those memories, tell them if you still have your Mom. She might be very curious to know what stuck and what didn't. Hug her, and if you can't hug her, hug her memory. Take a moment to write a note - to her, to you, to posterity. Scribe those memories before they are lost. Someone may find them touching one day. Even if you have no pictures, you can scrapbook the feelings and memories using a bit of old lace, a picture of a pitcher she made, her tools of life. Happy Mom's Day to everyone.
Peace be the journey - cool runnings.
Ta for now, ~ky