When I was younger, the only “days” that mattered were birthdays and holidays; party days. But as I grow older, suddenly I look forward to Christmas morning more than New Year’s Eve, try to bring my girlfriends flowers on March 8th, and actually begin to care about what till now, was for me yet another Hallmark holiday; Mother’s Day. By no means am I suggesting that I’m going to get to sleep past 6.30 tomorrow, that anyone will bring me coffee and eggs on a tray in bed, where I will relax and sip on a mimosa until noon. That’s just a joke, kind of like Hallmark. Nor do I mean that my son is expected to make me “happy mother’s day” cards with hearts on it for the rest of his childhood or take me to lunch every year when he’s an adult. (Though I wouldn’t say no to either.)
What I mean is that as we grow older, we appreciate ourselves more, what we’ve accomplished, what we’ve learnt from endless mistakes, that no matter how much we think we are going to be better than our own mothers, grandmothers, fathers, we can only hope to do as well as they did. We learn to love ourselves as much as we love our kids, for only that way can we truly love them, accept them for who they are, and give them the space and warm, nurturing boundaries that will let them flourish into humans we will forever look at and smile.
Happy Mother’s Day to all parents, mothers, fathers, grandparents, guardians, for this day, and every day, is about all of us who possess the strength, the patience, and that bottomless well swirling with love. We are all far from perfect, far from who we think we must be, flawed, at times wrong, weak, selfish, failures, but at the end I hope we all win in this game, like my mother and grandmother are winning tonight, as I write this tearfully grinning into the screen.
I rarely post family pictures, but today I will. Four generations of everything that encompasses the meaning of human.
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