Local Voices: Happy Mothers Day, Mom

I really want to call my mother.  There are still things I haven’t asked. 

Not a too unusual request, except my mother is deceased. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to pick up the phone and call her, share the good stuff and cry a little over the not so good stuff.  

There still is that connection to a mother.  It is said we become that generation on the passing of our parents. Not really. In my heart of hearts I am still that little girl. When I feel lonely I want my mother. When I feel scared I want my mother. I would think that God created friends for when Mothers weren’t around. 

When I think of myself, I think of age 39. When I intermingle with people, I think 39. The only betrayal in that part of my life is the mirror.

I wonder if my mother felt the same.  Mirrors are always a great awakener.  My mother was often told that she was an attractive woman.  Was she told, you must have been a real beauty when you were young?  What was her reaction?  Oh my God, what do I look like now?  Who am I today? Who did my mother share with? Who knew her dreams?

I am a mother. What questions will my daughter have for me when I’m gone?  Like my mother, maybe I am wise, and will let my daughter find her own way. 

Mothers were always reminders. Reminders of who you should call, who you should write, what you should do, what you shouldn’t do. Who you would be when you grew up. Kiss your Uncle, say hello to your aunt.

All the reminders. Don’t forget to turn the clock back. Now, no one is there to remind me. I miss the reminders.

Mothers also have warnings; Always wear clean underwear, you never know what could happen, you might be in an accident. Drive safe.  

Why do I want to call my Mother? One reason is I am looking for the answers to the questions I never asked. Answers to help me prepare for my today. “They” say that the things you love eventually turn out to be the things that bother you the most. 

The reverse is true as well. What bothers us the most usually turns out to be the things you miss. 

I never thought I would miss something as simple, as your baking. I make your sweet and sour cabbage.  You rolled the cabbage better than me. Truthfully it is not that you never taught me, I always felt there was more time. 

Yes, we had many a good time together. We laughed a lot. I remember road trips when I was younger. I miss the little things that I thought would always be there.