Mother's Day

               As Mother’s Day approaches it’s natural that we would think about our mothers who have passed on.  It’s painful for many as they are missing their mothers and this day to honor them feels wrong when they are not here to be with them.  I miss my mother’s physical presence every day.  How many times a day do you find yourself wanting to tell her something, or ask her something? Probably countless times is the answer.  The thing is, though, that her influence is with me all the time. The things she liked, the things she found distasteful, her way of organizing the house and her day all are still with me, whether I follow those ways myself or not.

               My mother had a ‘schedule’ that she followed.  It wasn’t written down or anything like that, but Mondays were sheet changing days, and they were washed, dried and put away once they were taken off the beds.  I’m more of a nonschehedule type of housekeeper; I do things as I have time depending on what else is going on. Thursday night was grocery shopping, or maybe it was Friday?  I’m not quite sure about that, but her list was organized by how the store was laid out, something I also do as it makes it easier to remember everything we need.  My love of music stems from there always being music in our life.  Whether it was the radio, records, or my mother playing the piano, from a young age our house was filled with melodies.  She sang in the church choir and encouraged all four of us kids to play musical instruments and join school chorus and church choir. Yes, our house overflowed with music.  Mom was an early riser, a carryover from her having been raised on a farm where the days started very early with chores.  She had a habit of running errands early in the day, as soon as stores and the post office were open.  I, too, prefer to run errands early in the day just as she did. I use her recipes, and can picture her in my mind grating cheese for macaroni and cheese, stirring a pot of tomato sauce, and kneading bread dough.  I see, in my mind’s eye, her delight at flowers and remember her showing all her plants around the yard to visitors in the summer, and digging in a small patch of garden planting vegetable seeds, and pulling weeds.  Nothing was better than when she’d go out early in the morning in the summer and pick black raspberries for us to have on our cereal.  My love of words comes from her, and we played countless games of Scrabble.  She usually won, but on those rare occasions when I beat her it gave me a feeling of accomplishment.  I think of her every day, in so many different ways.

               Even though I am sad that I no longer have my mother to delight with a gift of flowers, I celebrate her memory on Mother’s Day and every day.  I hope you find some comfort in your memories of your mother.