Some of us do not have the ability to tell our mothers what we think or want them to know. Others of us have, but have not taken the chance. These are the things I had to tell my mother when I had the chance.
She is sharp as a tack, but somehow I don’t think she would understand a word of what I would say to her. We went our own ways, and mine is so far from hers. I need to tell her all I have learned.
Momma could answer every question I had, even when the answer was I’ll have to find out for you. It would be decades before I knew how much of her patience it expended and the time commitment that entailed.
Momma could soothe away tears, even when I thought she caused them. I would need my own teenagers to find out how difficult a child’s tears could be for a mother to see.
Momma was forgiving of things I did and said. For the things she should not have forgiven, she was fair, even if I thought the punishment was too severe. Punishing my own children for the things they do let me know discipline is something you must give to your children even if you want to laugh at what they have done.
Momma was strong, especially when I really wanted her to give in to my want-du-jour. In retrospect, I wonder why I thought I wanted those things in the first place. On the other hand, she knew the value of a good gift. After many instances of getting precisely what I asked for, I have learned to ask for far better.
Momma could sit for hours stroking my hair as I lay ill in the bed. I now know it hurt her to see me in pain of any variety.
Momma laughed with me many times, although about half of those times I believed she was laughing at me. Watching my own little ones, I feel the mirth she could not contain.
Momma knew what was best, even though I knew she had no idea how the world worked. She has gotten so worldly as I have aged.
Momma said thank you, even for the live toads and snakes or yarn and noodle necklaces we presented to her as presents. Handmade gems fill my treasure chest, and for them I am truly grateful.
Momma loved me, even when I didn’t love myself. I wish I had never had to return the favor or felt the pain of loving someone who did not love themselves.
I miss Momma, even if she is but at the end of a telephone line. Independence has its price, even if you find out too late how dear.
Maybe, just maybe, I understand why Momma always said she wanted a commune in the mountains where we could all live together under the shelter of the trees. As a child, I could not appreciate how precious the closeness was. I long to have it again.
I am thankful, too. Momma is still here. I can still place her Mother’s Day flowers in her hand. She raised me to be grateful.
If you have the chance, tell your mother those things you have learned from her and the things you would like for her to know. If you cannot, have a moment of silence to remember them.
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers of M3.
(c) Ann Marie Dwyer 2008-2012
Re-Blogging of this or any other post on Momma’s Money Matters
is expressly forbidden.
in The Office.
Spread the Love!