On this very early Sunday morning, I am apparently late to the start of the Mother’s Day festivities, at least the ones seen outside my window. Doe and fawn have just finished up a fine breakfast of quince tree tips and spring clover. The robins have already bathed and are singing a spirited chorus in surround-sound, with no corner of the garden absent of their cheer. The sun is up, but cloaked by clouds, while it patiently awaits the cue for a grand entrance just above the tree tops where dramatic streams of light and shadow will herald its arrival.
It is in these hours that this west-coast son calls his east-coast mom. I know to wait until a little later today, as Mom won’t be home from church yet, and she may be having brunch afterwards with friends. While a continent separates us, an invisible phone line connects us. Most days, we start the conversation with a simple, “Good morning, how are you?” My Mom, from a generation of women who toughed things out, could be pinned under an anvil, fighting a grease fire, and enduring a sprained ankle, and she would still answer, “Oh, I’m fine, how are you?” The only time I really know she’s ill is when she has a cough or head cold. Even then, she’ll say, “Oh it’s nothing.”
Our conversations of course center around what I’m doing, what she’s doing, and have I talked to my siblings. My sister, brother and I call Mom our little Energizer bunny, never sitting still or idly wasting time. As a card carrying nap advocate, I encourage breaks and times of laying low and doing nothing. It’s a challenge, but I think she’s getting better at taking a break and time for herself.
About mid-conversation, we turn into Siskel and Ebert, and review our favorite television shows for content, plausibility and general what-were-the-writers-thinking disbelief. My Mom’s favorite show is Blue Bloods, and now I too, am a fan. I think my Mom has a crush on Tom Selleck, but why wouldn’t she; his character reminds me (and no doubt her) of my father, a strong, silent type with matinee-idol good looks and character to boot. Her favorite part of the show is when the family comes together for Sunday dinner. That in itself speaks volumes to the kind of woman my mother is. She puts others before herself and her greatest joy is being around her family and friends. So Happy Mother’s Day, Mom, thank you for all the gifts you’ve shared throughout my life. Oh yes and rest up, because I’ve got our to-do list penned for this summer (between hammock naps that is).