Un Dia, mi madre
My 9 year old daughter identified it before my senses knew what hit them. I was dropping my girls off to spend the night with my mom and....
...you could smell the tortillas from the sidewalk as we stepped out of the car. Of course, my mom knew we were coming, and she always makes fresh tortillas for her 'hijas'.
I sat in her house, idle chit chat like we always do - it is impossible to walk in and out of my mother's house, for she has to share everything that's happened in her day, or past days, or something she's read, or pass on what so and so said - inevitably, what should take a few minutes lasts at least 30. Today she shared about the old neighbors she saw at a fellow neighbors funeral.
As I was leaving, pulling my car down the street I've driven down thousands of times, (this is the only house I ever lived in growing up) I looked at the houses I've looked at all my life and the heart-wrenching realization; my mother is one of 4 people left on the block who are original owners. Most of the neighbors that bought their homes brand new in that neighborhood, as my parents did, have all died. That's counting the ones who have moved away. For whatever reason I felt the crushing immediacy of time and how little I have left with her.
My mother is 84. She had me when she was 43 years old, my sisters were married with babies of their own and my brother in college when I came along, I was born an aunt. She doesn't look her age, or act it. She manages her house and yard and has one of the loveliest gardens on the block. I'm grateful she has maintained her vitality and independence for her age attributable to, what I believe, is her deep spirituality, kindness to others, and always staying busy. I never knew a time the woman wasn't on the move.
I can't even fathom what my life would be like without her. She has been a constant presence in the raising of both my daughters; although she doesn't like to discuss or address difficult personal issues, concerning herself or anybody, she was my source of strength and support during my divorce; holding my hand as I trembled and navigated my way through that ordeal.
I always see it posted, reiterated, over and over "don't take tomorrow for granted, it's not promised". Today was one of those days it hit me in the face like a brick - as she handed me my monthly missal for scriptural readings (mind you, I haven't been to church in 2 years, and the Catholic church upsets me more than comforts me, but she is relentless in her constant attempts to nudge me back - I love her dearly for that) - forever can come tomorrow, and I know how much I'll regret when that day comes and I realize I let it go to waste...
...you could smell the tortillas from the sidewalk as we stepped out of the car. Of course, my mom knew we were coming, and she always makes fresh tortillas for her 'hijas'.
I sat in her house, idle chit chat like we always do - it is impossible to walk in and out of my mother's house, for she has to share everything that's happened in her day, or past days, or something she's read, or pass on what so and so said - inevitably, what should take a few minutes lasts at least 30. Today she shared about the old neighbors she saw at a fellow neighbors funeral.
As I was leaving, pulling my car down the street I've driven down thousands of times, (this is the only house I ever lived in growing up) I looked at the houses I've looked at all my life and the heart-wrenching realization; my mother is one of 4 people left on the block who are original owners. Most of the neighbors that bought their homes brand new in that neighborhood, as my parents did, have all died. That's counting the ones who have moved away. For whatever reason I felt the crushing immediacy of time and how little I have left with her.
My mother is 84. She had me when she was 43 years old, my sisters were married with babies of their own and my brother in college when I came along, I was born an aunt. She doesn't look her age, or act it. She manages her house and yard and has one of the loveliest gardens on the block. I'm grateful she has maintained her vitality and independence for her age attributable to, what I believe, is her deep spirituality, kindness to others, and always staying busy. I never knew a time the woman wasn't on the move.
I can't even fathom what my life would be like without her. She has been a constant presence in the raising of both my daughters; although she doesn't like to discuss or address difficult personal issues, concerning herself or anybody, she was my source of strength and support during my divorce; holding my hand as I trembled and navigated my way through that ordeal.
I always see it posted, reiterated, over and over "don't take tomorrow for granted, it's not promised". Today was one of those days it hit me in the face like a brick - as she handed me my monthly missal for scriptural readings (mind you, I haven't been to church in 2 years, and the Catholic church upsets me more than comforts me, but she is relentless in her constant attempts to nudge me back - I love her dearly for that) - forever can come tomorrow, and I know how much I'll regret when that day comes and I realize I let it go to waste...
Comments
Post a Comment