Perpetual being of light

This year, I fear, I have tried my mother’s patience. Life has not gone according to plan. My plan was to have a fat baby bouncing on my mother’s knee by the time I was turning 31. A house. A husband. Less financial concern. I wanted her to be worrying about me less. And enjoy the fun things with me more.

But we don’t get to choose these things. I have done my best, and I think she knows that. Perhaps that is why she isn’t as angry at me as I am at myself. No matter what happens, my Mom always thinks there is a way for me to get through it. She believes it more than I do 90% of the time. She makes every day easier for me no matter how hard it makes it on her.

Mom loves chocolate. And walking on the beach. She wants to laugh and dance and have a clean house. She wants Bella to stop biting. And more so, stop putting her nose in every nook and cranny of her house. My Mom loves big time, with a blinding goodness that is hard to not feel warmed by. She’s thoughtful, and caring. She will do anything for you. She never asks for anything in return.

Mother’s day always reminds me of being a little girl and going to Mom Mom’s to plant her flowers and sit on her glider out back with Grandma and Nini. The big rose bush reaching towards the sky. Maybe some dogs running around. A lit cigarette or two. The promise of summer. My birthday. The pool. The beach. I don’t remember what we ate. But I am sure I had a coke a cola. It was neat. I miss it.

Today it rained. We sat around the kitchen table here at home. We ate chocolate buns. What I got her didn’t seem enough. If I could I would shower her with shopping trips to target with no children crying in the aisles and unending donuts.

Mom, you make everything better. I am grateful and lucky.