Sunday, May 11, 2014
I think there is a little crazy in all mamas. And it’s no wonder. We are keeping people alive, people who are part of us, a part of who we are. It’s complicated. But I also think that balancing that crazy, a mother has the ability to be serene, calm and wise at times when everyone else is falling apart. I guess it’s sort of like the yin and the yang. I have seen this calmness first-hand recently as my mom’s love kept me fed, sane, safe and comforted. The needs of a 38 year old are at times no different from the needs of a three year old. Moms never get much attention, and no where is that more obvious than in the millions of photos that feature everyone but the mama. And I think for my mom who doesn’t like attention, that is just fine. But this year, Mom, a little ode dedicated to you. I will never be able to repay you for all you have done for me, but I can give you a few words. My Mom. My Mom is... Strong to the point of crazy. Giving to the point of a calendar filled with other peoples’ appointments, sporting events, beach times and babysitting needs. Genuine to the point of the (occasional) dropping of a good, satisfying “Shhhhhhhhhhitttttttt.” (Emphasis on the sh and the t.) Fun to the point of a fall in the sand. Determined to the point of almost giving my Dad hyperthermia. Loving to the point of emphatic. My Mom has the most honest and real faith of any one I know, getting mad, asking for help and ultimately leaving the big problems to the big One. She also has a shit list for people who have performed in some sort of sub-par way. But an evening of beer and burgers on the back patio will swiftly take anyone off it. My Mom loves Chardonnay, biking (long distances only), historical fiction, the beach at sunset and a room full of her family. She would like to have dinner with most any author, she doesn’t believe in regrets, and she has this pretty unique and cool belief that there are invisible people next to us all the time, living on different celestial planes. But most importantly to me, I realize now, more than ever that my Mom's devotion to her kids is never-ending and her life journey has not been simple or easy at times. But my Mom can always see that her Starbucks decaf black coffee to-go mug is half-full, never dwelling on any pain for long. Instead looking forward, she’ll open up her calendar to the back page where she writes down events in the coming years, and she’ll say, “When is that again?” Then she’ll jot whatever happening down in pen, book a hotel room or two and plan on making chili. And then she’ll be there, like she always is.