Mothers and Daughters
“I am fooling only myself when I say my mother now exists only in the photo on my bulletin board. She lives on in everything I do. . . Her presence influenced who I was, and her absence influences who I am. . .” Hope Edelman, author
When May was eight, her great aunt Julia said her talent for sewing was inherited from her mother. Her quickly whispered words filled the little girl with warmth. Beginning at age six, she was forbidden to hear of or to see her mother. Her parents were divorced then; they were bitter enemies. She was their hostage.
May began looking for her mother when she 16. She found her when she was 40. “My mother, my mother, my mother,” her heart sang as she almost fell out the plane door. Not a slouch for drama either, her white haired mother held garden roses and a home made welcome sign while her escort videotaped the two women’s tear-filled race across the tarmac.
For two decades, they met in California or in Washington, DC – their homes. They traveled together; they hung out. Bit by bit, May learned about their earlier life. The funny song May sang since age five was one her mother taught her. At age 24, May worked in the New York City garment district where her mother worked as a pattern maker. Her mother was a great cook; May was known for her pastries. Her mom was a glamour girl until her death at 92. Today, May feels her mom with her whenever she adds a little bling to her wardrobe.
Yes, May is me and Mom is now in my memory bank. She’s no longer the mother I cried for when a child; she’s the complex, talented, sometimes cranky woman who was Mother. And when I finally met and knew her, I found more of me.
Meditation for the Day
“In search of my mother’s garden I found my own.” Alice Walker
Action for the Day
Today, I will appreciate my mother. I will consider the months I lived under her heart and be pleased with whatever she gave me – large, small or simply bling.
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