The perfect Mother's Day gift

Mom and me...date unknown



In my dream, there is the small kitchen with the window facing the sidewalk that leads to town. White eyelet curtains move quietly in the warm lilac-scented breeze, and the girl, chin resting on folded arms watches as a young woman makes her way toward town. It's almost always the same dream; sometimes, though, the point-of-view is reversed as the young woman turns back toward the tiny house and her eyes lock on those of the girl in the window.

There are no sounds of birdsong, no voices, and I'm sure the smell of lilacs is simply imaginary. What matters here is that the young woman and the girl are the same person.

I started having this dream after I read somewhere that we should ask ourselves this question: Would the person you were as a child be happy with the grown-up you've become?

Sunday is Mother's Day and there will be a plethora of columns written about the subject. I've written about my own mom in these pages a few times, but the other day I was thinking about those who will face the holiday this time around for the first time without their mother. If the son or daughter had a close relationship, it will be hard. If they didn't, it will still be hard. The bonds between parents and children are infuriatingly complex, but that doesn't stop us from trying to unravel the mystery.

Mom and Dad divorced when I was three weeks old. I met Dad once, for about an hour, in 1975. He died 18 years later on Christmas Day, 20 years after my mom passed away. In February a small envelope came in the mail that held photos of my mom, dad and another relative along with a note from someone claiming they had found these among their late mother's belongings. There was a promise of more to come, and indeed there were more photos. I saw my mom and dad as a happy couple, my dad and his horse, Goldie, and more. So many smiles, so long ago.

Sis and I grew up with a single mother who had her own jaded view of the world. She disliked and distrusted anyone who was not white, all churches, and most men. We could have grown up to be racist, non-church-going men-haters, but we made our own decisions based on the way Mom lived her life. Sis and I became good cooks (like Mom), and while I seem to have inherited her love of the dark and creepy horror stories, I also love music and poetry.

As grown women, and as mothers and grandmothers, sis and I are hopefully examples of love and acceptance. We've tried (and mostly succeeded) in weeding out what we perceived to be unacceptable traits in Mom while trying to hold onto the beautiful parts of her that made her who she was.

This will be our 37th Mother's Day without Mom. We have our own families now, and we pray that our children and grandchildren will follow our example: Find all that is good in us--embrace it and pass it on to future generations. For some of us, that would be the best Mother's Day gift ever.