2 posts tagged “mother's day”
My mother is as dainty as a teacup, as colorful as a tapestry, as rare as an alchemist's recipe for gold, as valuable as...nothing this word holds, voluminous as its pockets may be.
Her delicate profile tempered my features, made my lower lip full, kept my nose from spiting my face. If I had any aspirations to grace, it was through her.
When she had me, I made the birthing rather difficult, and for that I apologize. Large shoulders will get stuck, but that's hardly an excuse for a most disconcerting debut. She loved me unconditionally, and I believed I howled like a monkey in return.
Her style is not the style of comfort or resignation. Like the person it adorns, it is witty and sophisticated. And out of gratitude to one who wears it so well, Beauty has decided to stay. My mother is beautiful.
She battles age on its own terms - any gauntlet it cares to throw down, she picks up and slaps it across its barren face. The years are pointless, meaningless. They do not order her around; in fact they are roundly defeated. Time has not been able to change her, and it retreats in disgust, shaking its hands which have been left inexorably ited.
Our friendship is profound. We are the best of sisters.
Many times I've reflected on my spectacular good fortune to have such a companion. We know each others' thoughts: they travel side by side, and the drivers - mother and daughter - lean out the windows, waving to each other with happy recognition.
Mom, wishing you a happy Mother's Day barely scratches the surface. I love you.
I choose this name for my Mother's Day post because with my mother I have indeed struck it rich, receiving a wealth of love and happiness I honestly don't think I deserve, and which I'm sure I stumbled upon out of sheer stupid, blind, dumb, birthing luck.
I knew this when I was eight:
And I know it now. I always will.
And to honor the gratitude I feel for my mother, I would like to present a Mothering history, starting at the beginning, when she was curly-haired and chubby (and apparently easily hypnotized) in Stelton, New Jersey:
As a young woman, the world of music pulled like a magnet, inspiring her to study her craft and to learn - in several punishing courses - how to play the maracas:
In early married life, she chose to lay down the maracas - I tried to continue the tradition, but was never able to master their complexity - to pick up the instruments of the housewife:
Every Christmas she received her pay via a richly endowed Money Tree:
The proceeds of which went towards numerous expensive trips to Las Vegas. Mother actually knew several key people at Ceasar's Palace personally:
And now, having raised a rather marvelous family, she remains as beautiful, as mad, as clever, as funny as ever:
I love you, mom. Happy Mother's Day.
