57. Mother’s Day
We wouldn’t be here without our mothers, literally. Figuratively, it’s more complex than that. On Sunday, Mother’s Day brought in the annual reminder and opportunity to celebrate the mothers in our lives a little extra. Perhaps more intentionally, and I think intention makes all the difference.
From the handmade pasta necklaces primary school kids bring home in their backpacks, to the half-strength, skinny milk, extra hot cappuccino waiting on the bedside table, many put “actions speak louder than words” into play. My mother’s actions certainly speak louder than her simple words.
She’s the smartest woman I know, full of wit, wisdom and wonder; yet she’s never the loudest in the room (a hard feat in our household, regardless), she’ll never vie for credit or ask for too much and always has others’ best interests at heart. Most of all, she lets my siblings and me speak for ourselves, and our independence is something we should never take for granted.
I could write a novel on how much I admire this woman, but my words could not convey the love I have for her in my whole body (and this is not the place for a manuscript). So, I will just say this; it is not lost on me how unique, invaluable and special it is to be blessed with someone like her as our mother.
Mother’s Day is bittersweet for many families and individuals for a variety of reasons. To you, I am sorry that I cannot begin to understand your experience and complexities about days like Mother’s Day, knowing that it is not the only day in the year where these emotions are evoked. If I can be of any consolation, my messages are always open. You’re always in my thoughts on days like this.
The lunch in the peaceful King Valley I shared with my family was priceless (thanks to Dad for footing the bill). “What is the best part about being a mother?” my eldest younger brother asked our matriarch. Barely a sentence into her response, half of us were a blubbering mess. Happy tears were quickly caught on my napkin as I looked around at the six people I love the most. I know it won’t always be like this, and it hasn’t been in the past, but in that moment, I never wanted to leave.
There’s a perfect balance between the level of raw emotion and candour, yet individuality and privacy we all maintain within our lives. We are a family as close as can be, without knowing every detail of each other’s lives; we don’t need to know to maintain our support for each other. This balance and our ability to so far successfully function as adults in this world would never be possible without our mum, Marni.
As I drove southbound to my solitary abode along the Hume Highway, I could only think, “How lucky am I?”. I don’t write this today to boast or to compare my mother to yours or your experience with motherhood. I write with the intention to acknowledge my rare situation, appreciate the blessings I have, and make my mother smile. It’s my favourite thing to do.
