I hear her in
the birdsong
And the rustling
of the leaves,
The tinkling
of a windchime,
In the
whispering of a breeze.
I see her in
the flowers
Yellow faces
in the sun,
Red petals of
the tulips
That grow
gracefully one by one.
I smell her
in the perfume
Of a balmy
summer day
In the scent
of fresh washed laundry,
In fresh-baked
bread always.
I feel her in
the stitches
Of the
mittens she once knit
With the
warmth of loving fingers
In each and
every stitch.
She is around
me always,
(We can’t
truly be apart),
Though she
now resides in Heaven
She’s in my
mind and in my heart.
My first
Mother’s Day as a new mother was in 1990, just about 6 weeks before my first baby’s
first birthday. I don’t really remember
much about it, I’m sure we celebrated it with my mother and the rest of the
family, my 3 brothers and my younger brother’s wife who is and has always been more
like a sister to me as they became a couple in their early teen years while I
was in my very late teens. At any rate, we would have all gathered at either my
parents’ or brother’s house, bringing
flowers to honor Mom and probably a potluck meal as we were not a
family that went out for dinner much. As
we all aged and had more children we still gathered with Mom at the center of Mother’s
Day although we rotated houses between me and my younger brother. I hope Mom
felt the love we all held (and still hold) for her as we talked and laughed
about nothing and everything as was, and still is, our custom when we
gather together, although Mom has been gone for 20 years now. Things did change
after she left us in that we no longer all get together on Mother’s Day but
celebrate with our own children. Last year was difficult because it was the first
year without our youngest, Hillary, and my husband and I started the day by
going to church, then to the cemetery where she rests, then home to relax until
our remaining daughter and her fiancée came over. While the men went outside to plant some flowers
for me, my daughter and I made door wreaths together, and we had a wonderful
time. We went out for dinner at an Italian restaurant of my choice and to be
honest, it wasn’t very good. The service
was slow and the food not the way it was described on the menu. We came home and had some delicious ice cream,
so the meal wasn’t a total loss. We
haven’t gone back to the restaurant since. This year will be different, as we
are looking forward to the birth of our first grandchild in June. It will be a much happier day and next year
there will be 2 mothers to celebrate—me and my daughter. In my daughter’s face
I see the echoes of the line of mothers she comes from, and I will see those same
echoes in her child’s face because we carry a bit of every one of our ancestors,
whether it’s the shape of our nose, our talent in music, or our love of gardening.
When I look at myself I see my mother’s cheeks, and I have the love of writing
my maternal grandmother had. My daughter has the musical talent my mother had,
and the stubbornness that I exhibit from time to time. I wonder what echoes her daughter will have,
and look forward to finding out, one Mother’s Day celebration at a time.
Me and my daughter at her baby shower. My baby is having a baby!
