I’m not sure that we ever really give our mother’s their due. I mean, how can we really? We are their children and we embody almost every one of their hopes and fears for the future. My mother would never forgive me if I publicly posted her age here, but she has three grown children, the youngest of whom hits 45 this year. You can figure out some sort of estimate that satisfies you.
We are three grown children, with various successes and failures that coat our lives. We are, if I do say myself, a pretty good bunch. That is thanks in no small part to our parents and the values they instilled in us. But I don’t think there is a day that goes by that my mother doesn’t worry about us, fret about some incoming calamity or our health, our happiness, if the loves that share our lives are treating us right and on and on.
Both parents do this I know, but I’ve long suspected that mothers never lose that amped up worry that they acquire when their children become teenagers. No that’s not right, that amped up worry that they acquire when we are born. Fathers tend to temper theirs more I think.
There is a photo in my parent’s room at home of my mother as a young woman. It is a glamorous photo, worthy of any Hollywood starlet, and I used to believe that my mom was movie star when she was young. How could anyone that beautiful not be? And while she may not be a movie star, her beauty still shines through, for her beauty is timeless, painted in her eyes when she looks at us those moments when her adoration overtakes the worry.
So while Sunday was Mother’s Day (and yes I called), I wanted to let you know Mom she deserves one of her own, not shared with all of the mother’s of the world. That for me, today is my Mother’s Day. Don’t worry, we’re all fine.
I love you.
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2 responses
Very well done yourself – John
Thanks John