I had a quiet-ish Mother’s Day. We had the big pool party for Matt’s birthday on Saturday, and a good thing as Saturday was gloriously sunny and 80 degrees and Sunday was cloudy and 60 degrees. May is still early spring after all. Sara and Ben are away. My Salvadoran friend, a mother of two young girls, works in one of our favorite restaurants as a server on the weekends, so I went there for breakfast on my own. I had a card for her and some money inside — a gift card would have been a little less tacky, but I suspect that straight cash is the most useful in the end. She was touched, and insisted on paying for my breakfast — which I accepted graciously. Friendship is about mutuality, after all.
Matt and Archie stopped over in the afternoon to bring flowers from both my kids, spouses and grandkids, and Louise and I went out for happy hour later on. On the whole I had a day of simple pleasures, which is a fine theme for Mother’s Day. 🙂
Mother’s Day is always big in our family, because it’s also Matt’s birthday weekend. He was quite the Mother’s Day gift. 🙂
Mother’s Day, perhaps more so than other holidays, touches everyone.
We all have mothers. Some of us are mothers. Many of us have been a mothering presence to someone younger at an important point in his or her life.
A good mother — and the title of my 2016 memoir is Good Daughter, Good Mother, so I’ve thought about this a lot — is fiercely protective, tender, nurturing, the one who boldly strikes out on life’s path just ahead of us and assures us it’s safe to come along. Mothers who are too damaged to do that fail their children in the most fundamental of ways. Hopefully the missing pieces can be minimized by a mothering presence, which can be found in the most unexpected of places.
If you’ve ever had good mothering — from your own or from a mothering presence — turn around today and offer that rich gift of love to someone else. Our vulnerable selves need all the mothering we can find — at any age.