Mother’s Day will arrive soon. On a warm spring day, wrapped in a lovely lilac box or steeped in fresh water, shortly it will be here. All the commercials tell us so. My newspaper flyers are bulging with Mother’s Day advertisements. I’ve been asked many times what my special day will be like. I am, after all, a mother to two very special little girls.
Almost four years ago, I received the call from the nurse at the hospital. I drove like a drunken driver hoping to catch one last goodbye. I chanted to myself over and over for her to hold on. I marvel that I made that one-hour trip alive at 2 AM. My beautiful, warm, loving mom lay motionless. My feet felt like stone as I tried to approach her bedside from the hospital room’s door. I closed my mother’s eyes. I took my hand and stroked the silky skin of her cheek. Her skin had always felt like silk. I kissed her cheek one last time. Her body was now simply a shell. I explained from that day forward to my older daughter that her grandma’s body was like a seashell. I couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than my mother. Her memory deserved an equally beautiful idea.
So, along with my girls, I will surely be visiting my mom’s graveside on Mother’s Day. The maple trees and the glorious flowers remind me that there is no greater gift than that of a mother’s love. Nature’s gifts remind me of the many, many hours my mom spent working in her lovely garden. So today I will wrap nothing that one can hold in one’s hand. I will simply wrap myself in the warmth of a lifetime of being my mother’s girl.
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