5/12 Daily Prompt: Hi, Mom!
Today is Mother’s Day in the United States. Wherever in the world you are, write your mother a letter.
It’s been a long while since I’ve heard from you: 14 years and a couple months. I can actually remember the very day, because it was my birthday.
Things are pretty good here. I”ll try to catch you up.
Daughter Dearest is a good mother with two lovely little girls of her own; they always put a smile on my face. The boys are fine young men; I’m sure you’d be proud of them. One’s in college and the other graduates high school next month. They all have the world at their feet. I love that they have the same sense of humor you have — silly and smart. They sing songs and change the words for fun. They make up words and aren’t afraid to make fun of themselves. And they have good hearts, all of them. They have compassion and kindness and respect for other people.
I wonder how you managed with all of us, your ‘passel of kids.’ Sure, the older ones helped a lot with the younger ones, but you still had to supervise and make sure the household ran as smoothly as possible. You cooked our hot breakfasts, the wonderful homemade soups, the freshly-baked breads and pies, and my personal favorite: the roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. What I wouldn’t give for a nice Sunday dinner at Mom’s.
Now that I’m older, I can appreciate your sacrifices so much more. Some of them I never knew, but that was your way. You always worked behind the scenes, talking to Dad on our behalf, fixing things, and helping us along. Your own dreams were replaced by the dreams of your children; you wanted nothing more than for us to be healthy, happy, and kind. You taught us to be thankful for the life we have, to work hard, and to keep a song in our hearts.
We all come to the point in our lives where we look or sound like our parents. I remember you talking about that. I laugh when it happens to me, when I cry out in frustration, “Oh, peanuts, popcorn, and Cracker Jack!” Or when I hear a song on the radio and sing your lyrics instead. Or when I stand at the stove with my hand on my hip and realize that I must look exactly like you from behind.
Oh, and I have a confession: yes, it was I who dug down into the chest freezer for those tubs of frozen berries. I would only take a few at a time, so nobody would notice, and I’d replace the tub where I had found it. They were so good, I couldn’t help myself. Yes, it was I who found those large packs of Wrigley gum that Dad had confiscated from my sisters and stole one piece at a time — again, so nobody would notice. Yes, I smoked cigarettes out my bedroom window. I thought I was getting away with it until my sister found the butts and turned me in. Well, that and the small burn in the window sheers.
I know I was a mouthy brat as a kid. That hasn’t changed much.
What also hasn’t changed, and never will, is my love and respect for you.
Happy Mother’s Day.