We will soon celebrate Mother’s Day. My mother died during a very busy time in my life. My children were ages 21, 24, 28, and 31. While they were mostly independent, there was still some parenting happening—whether appreciated or not. (I do know they appreciated help when moving from one apartment to another.) Also, I spent hours at a job I thought important. It wasn’t.
Oh yes, I carved out an hour each week to spend with my mother, but I didn’t listen as she told the same stories over and over of happenings in her small town. I didn’t listen as she told me about her neighbor lady’s health. Not only did I not listen, I didn’t ask her questions. I now have many questions only my mother could answer.
Why did Great-grandpa move to Kansas from Ohio? What was the name of the horse she rode to school? What was her favorite subject in high school? I would like to hear the story about the above picture, too. What happened to that hat?
I’m older now, and sometimes I repeat stories to my children. They don’t always listen either, but I still love them. That’s what mothers do.
Happy Mother’s Day!