Mother's Day Approacheth

Once Upon A Time....

I could see my children sneaking about, whispering and giving each other conspiratorial looks. I pretended not to see, and smiled to myself, remembering the way I felt as a child when we made cards and other goodies for our mothers at school. I always hoped that the paste would dry correctly on my construction
paper masterpiece that passed itself off as a card for this special occasion.
Of course, my daddy would buy the real gifts and cards and have me sign the
one that he picked for me to give to Mother and he would nearly always buy
a box of handkerchiefs as my gift, while his was more elaborate and personal.

One year, he bought Mother a big baby doll for Mother's Day and she cried
and resented it for all time. I was puzzled, because Mother loved dolls and
stuffed animals. "This time, she later told me, it was as if your father was
trying to get me to have another baby, just at the time I wanted to return to
school". Much later, I remembered their argument in the bedroom about
"We should have just one more child before you get busy in school" ( that
was my father's voice of course) and Mother answering, "We have one boy
and one girl, there is no other kind of child I can give you". I can tell you, life
got pretty grim in our house after that, and in a few years mother and daddy
divorced. The third child never materialized and mother went back to school.

I always wished that I could cook because it seemed wrong that mother always
had to cook a huge dinner in honor of her own day. When I became a mother
I did the same thing. My husband Lester always gave me something special
for Mother's Day! Although I cannot remember specifics, I do remember that
he would bring me special chocolates with cherries inside, like when we were
courting, and some kind of trinket and we would more than likely go for a
walk with the children. In my memory, all Mother's Day Sundays were sunny
and bright.

As a child, we went to church of course, and everyone who had a living mother
wore a red flower, provided either by the church or bought from someplace
the night before. My younger brother Raymond, and I always were proud to
wear our red flowers. Mother wore a red one too, because our maternal grandmother was very much alive, and would stay that way until she turned
103 years old. My poor daddy always had the white flower, having lost his
mother at age eight and his grandmother while serving in the war. I wanted
so much to take his hand and tell him that it was okay. We would love him
enough to make up for all the love that he missed!

Well, those days are gone. I have four of my six children left. Some of them do
not even speak to me. I have raised and helped to raise grandchildren, and one
son recently died. He was the orchestrator of many of those secretive meetings
prior to Mother's Day. They would have put together their allowances and bought a cake, made home made cards and tried to cook breakfast.

Aaaahhh..sweet times, gone too soon, but remembered forever.
I have no idea what will happen this Sunday, but if nothing happens, I have
my memories and God has blessed me with many happy moments in my
life. This should be enough to get me through!