Happy Mothers' Day to all the moms! I feel so wonderfully fortunate to have been given the blessed gift of a child, a child who could make my heart get all melty and mushy when she was a toddler. Even today, when I see her smile, my eyes see an adult woman, but my heart sees my beloved girl.
And Happy Mother's Day to my mom! If my mom was still here in the flesh, my two brothers and I and Dad would take her out to brunch, to a place with an omelette bar and waffle bar where you could add whipped cream and fresh strawberries to top your waffle. There'd be a variety of breakfast foods kept warm in trays under heat lamps, slices of canteloupe and other melons and fruits and trays of pastries temptingly displayed.
Mom would put on a pretty, colorful top, wear her favorite lipstick and perfume. Dangling earrings would swing with each turn of her head. Her skin would be beautiful and fresh, her cheeks always so soft. One of my favorite things to do was to press my right cheek against hers, breathing in her scent as I felt the rose-petal softness of her skin. And Mom would smile that cute smile of hers, the one that said she was delighted to be gathered together with her famly ... and just a bit thrilled to be fussed over. We'd all chat and gab the way families do, going from one subject to another, sharing the events of our lives with one another, talking about current events; not pop culture, but about events in politics and religion; music and film; economics and ecology. Mom and Dad always encouraged our intellectual curiosity, spurring some lively mealtime conversations.
After eating, we'd all give Mom her gifts. I'd probably get her a cute top ... or earrings that would dangle and swing with each turn of her head. She'd be happy. I'd be happy. We'd all be happy just to be together and to be together for her.
I'm smiling, thinking of these things, delighted that I've been so lucky to have such a terrific, encouraging, supportive mom. And tomorrow morning, I'll go to the cemetery and take a big bouquet of pretty, colorful flowers. I'll clean off her headstone, trim back the grasses a bit and arrange the flowers in the vase. I'll kneel and say prayers, with the ocean's breeze lightly blowing through the trees, grazing my arms so lightly, like the touch of Mom's cheek against mine.