With my first-born, Kate.
It’s those references that conjures up such varied emotions. The image replays on the movie reel in our minds.
For many of us it is that soft and comforting feeling we get when we hear the word, Mother. We think of childhood—the kissing away of tears, bumps and bruises.
Special occasions that wouldn’t have been the same without her there.
The aroma of certain foods that bring to mind our mother’s kitchen where we begged to lick the spoon from the cake bowl or couldn’t wait for those rolls, just out of the oven.
It’s when we’re sick, in our adult beds that we long for the days our mother felt our forehead and kissed our feverish brow.
Maybe she’d made us soup or offered a bottle of 7-UP to settle our tummies. We got to lay on the couch and watch TV when everyone else was at work and school, and best of all… the undivided attention of MOM!
When our hearts were broken by a friend or that special someone, she was on our side and ready with…
“It’s okay, things will be better tomorrow.”
“There are other fish in the sea!”
We remember her scent. It was hers alone— a fragrance of detergent, skin, and a day spent in the garden or yard.
And when she passes to the other side, we might bring a blouse or scarf home with us, so that every once in a while we can hold her earthly possessions to our face and inhale the fragrance that was, her.
The love and angst we share with our mothers can be the most intense in the world.
When we’re very young we need her desperately—we cling like little opossums might.
During our growing pains we resist the tug of her security. And when we’re grown and become adults we wish for that connection once again. We crave the touch and soothing voice when we’re sick, lonely, anxious or sad.
My mom called her mother Mama, my dad called his Ma, and I called mine, Mom.
Whatever the preference… Happy Mother’s Day everyone!