Every year this beautiful day that celebrates all the wonderful mothers comes as a bittersweet sting for some of us. Those of us who don't have a mother to celebrate, it reminds us of what we're missing --even though we miss it every day, somehow, on those days, it aches more.
It's mother's day and I can't possible not pause and mention my mother. She may not be here today but if she was, I would've celebrated her just like you. If she was here, this morning, my brother would've walked in her room to give her a kiss before he went to school. My sister and I would've made her breakfast in bed, like when we were little, just to remind her that we still love her and need her as much as when we were seven. Maybe even more. We would've made her coffee, black I think... but I can't remember how she took her coffee, and that breaks my heart.
If she was here today, I would've written her a letter, enclosed in a funny Peanut greeting-card, because those were her favorite. It would say she was the best mother in the world, because we all think our mothers are the best in the world and we're all right, they are for us. And I'm sure your mother is special in her own way, but to me, my mother was the most special of all. When I was a little girl, maybe six years-old, my grandmother told me that one day, my mother would be my best-friend. I remember this distinctly because I laughed and said "no way." But it was true. And it didn't take that long. And it was at the peak when you're supposed to be rebellious and go through that phase when you hate your mom or something and I have no clue what that phase is because my mom was my best-friend and not in a loser-I-don't-have-any-friends kind of way... She had this magical power that made it impossible for me to lie to her, the way any normal teenager should. I tried once, and I have a witness --my friend Rebellious, of course, who was a professional mom-liar. I told her I was sleeping over at a friend's when in fact I wanted to go clubbing --I was 14 I think. She believed me, but I couldn't live with myself for more than ten minutes. I went back and told her I lied. And I had a lot more fun knowing I went with her blessing.
If she was here today, I would've gotten her a nice bouquet of colorful tulips. I got a white bouquet and they're in a vase next to her picture. That's what we have now, her face in a frame, immortal, present, beautiful, unwavering. If she was here, I would go lie next to her in bed, put my head on her chest and ask her to stroke my head, just to feel like a little girl again, protected by her mother. If she was here, that's all I would want.
They say you don't know what you have until you lose it. I knew what I had and when I lost it, I knew nothing would ever replace that void she left. And even I am celebrating my mother today, here or not here. That's the thing about wonderful mothers... even when they haven't been around for ten years, you still hear their advice resonating in your head; you still feel their love getting you through the bad days; and you still think about them every single day.
Happy mother's day, mothers.
It's mother's day and I can't possible not pause and mention my mother. She may not be here today but if she was, I would've celebrated her just like you. If she was here, this morning, my brother would've walked in her room to give her a kiss before he went to school. My sister and I would've made her breakfast in bed, like when we were little, just to remind her that we still love her and need her as much as when we were seven. Maybe even more. We would've made her coffee, black I think... but I can't remember how she took her coffee, and that breaks my heart.
If she was here today, I would've written her a letter, enclosed in a funny Peanut greeting-card, because those were her favorite. It would say she was the best mother in the world, because we all think our mothers are the best in the world and we're all right, they are for us. And I'm sure your mother is special in her own way, but to me, my mother was the most special of all. When I was a little girl, maybe six years-old, my grandmother told me that one day, my mother would be my best-friend. I remember this distinctly because I laughed and said "no way." But it was true. And it didn't take that long. And it was at the peak when you're supposed to be rebellious and go through that phase when you hate your mom or something and I have no clue what that phase is because my mom was my best-friend and not in a loser-I-don't-have-any-friends kind of way... She had this magical power that made it impossible for me to lie to her, the way any normal teenager should. I tried once, and I have a witness --my friend Rebellious, of course, who was a professional mom-liar. I told her I was sleeping over at a friend's when in fact I wanted to go clubbing --I was 14 I think. She believed me, but I couldn't live with myself for more than ten minutes. I went back and told her I lied. And I had a lot more fun knowing I went with her blessing.
If she was here today, I would've gotten her a nice bouquet of colorful tulips. I got a white bouquet and they're in a vase next to her picture. That's what we have now, her face in a frame, immortal, present, beautiful, unwavering. If she was here, I would go lie next to her in bed, put my head on her chest and ask her to stroke my head, just to feel like a little girl again, protected by her mother. If she was here, that's all I would want.
They say you don't know what you have until you lose it. I knew what I had and when I lost it, I knew nothing would ever replace that void she left. And even I am celebrating my mother today, here or not here. That's the thing about wonderful mothers... even when they haven't been around for ten years, you still hear their advice resonating in your head; you still feel their love getting you through the bad days; and you still think about them every single day.
Happy mother's day, mothers.
rimoucheeeee
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