It's Mothers day. As I check in with myself and see how I am feeling about your not being here for it, I noticed a few things; laughter, sadness, appreciation, warmth, affection and tenderness.
At first I laugh, thinking about how much you hated Mothers Day. You used to say, it was the one day a year that people took their mothers out for an “airing.” You always hated these kinds of holidays.
You found them contemptible. You felt that these sentiments should be part of everyone’s day, every day. I happen to agree.
Today, when I look deeper, I discover a tenderness, a warmth and affection in me for you and from you, a feeling of deep appreciation moves through me.
There is also sadness, there is a missing of your voice, your humor, your smile, the sparkle in your eyes and hearing you say, “ I LOVE YOU!” I can still hear it. While these...
I don’t usually attend my sister’s Passover celebration. It’s a schlep and my current bed time is actually quite early. But this year was the first Passover since my mom’s passing so I was moved to go. Little did I realize it would be filled with some wonderful surprises.
You see, my sister had made brisket and chicken cooked to my mother’s specifications! It brought me back almost 8 years prior to when my mom still cooked. It was magical to experience the pleasure and the joy. I am so delighted that my sister still remembers how she cooked some of our favorite dishes.
But wait! There is more!
My brother-in-law handed me a serving spoon for desert. It was SO familiar. I looked at it carefully and then I remembered. You see, the handle was ever so melted. I laughed and smiled. It was my mother’s and now its home was at my sister’s place. I was delighted.
My mother may not have been at...
I was running away from home. I had had enough! I was tired of the constant rules about putting things away and cleaning up my room. I just couldn’t stand it anymore.
I should say that I was only 6 years old at the time. I had a Styrofoam barrel filled with pennies. That would be enough money, I thought to myself. As I began to pack my belongings, my mother came into my bedroom.
She sat quietly and gently asked where I was going? I told her proudly, “I am running away.” “Where will you go?" she asked quietly? I had not thought that far in advance. “I don’t know,” I said. “Would you like me to help you pack?” she asked ever so gently. “OK,” I said.
As she helped me pack, she said, “I’m going to miss you!” I was stunned. How could I leave when I would be missed? I looked at my little suitcase, my Styrofoam barrel filled with pennies and my stuffed dog (I was not going to run away alone)....