A Tribute to a Lady

My Mother A beautiful lady. I've always felt my Mom resembles the actress and playwright, Isabella Rossellini.
My Mother
A beautiful lady. I’ve always felt my Mom resembles the actress and playwright, Isabella Rossellini.

 

It used to drive me crazy as a teen.

“Tell me what you think, Mom. What should I do?”

Mom would set aside her paint brush, focus her dark eyes upon mine and shrug.

Her comment was always,

“It doesn’t matter what I think; it’s what you think that counts. Think for yourself.”
Brush strokes filled a canvas.

Think for yourself. Three words that held power. Wielding clout to the choices I made.

It was my responsibility to stand at the crossroad and choose the right path. Successes and failures were mine alone to shoulder.

Mother insisted I decide my fate. There were moments in life when I begged her~ tell me, guide me, shield me, and help me. Anything, as I stood alone at the intersection called Life, and clutched an empty suitcase.

“Buck up,” she’d say, “Life’s not a party and it sure as hell isn’t fair.”

Her words, sage lyrics spoken from the heart of a beautiful, brave woman. A lady who learned late the skill set necessary to navigate through the unpredictable forests of life. She understood I was ill prepared, too fearful to fly. So she pushed me.

When lost, my mother’s words take the helm and whisper, Think for yourself. I promise you, the answer is within. Automatically my compass resets.

The Universe sets us down, gives us what we need to deal, in a lifetime. A talisman of courage when we cower, a nudge to stand tall when another breaks us down, the sparkle of beauty amidst ruins and light to shine through darkness.

This Mother’s Day I honour you, Mom. I learned to fly.

To Mother’s Everywhere

English: Mother's Day card
English: Mother’s Day card (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Thank you for the sacrifices that you make on a daily basis.  The times that you are up all night cuddling an ill child, reassuring a small one that there really aren’t any monsters in the world.  The strength that you draw from within, when faced with adversity.  The resilience that you develop to survive the difficult times and remind others that “this too shall pass”. The gift of time that you share at the cost of your own quiet.  Always wearing a smile.  Offering a kind, encouraging word. Loving unconditionally.  That is a mother’s responsibility.  To all the mothers everywhere, I wish you a Happy Mother’s Day!  Thank you for the sacrifices that you make on a daily basis.

 

xo

 

The Circle of Life

Miss Rumphius book cover
Miss Rumphius book cover (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The early wake up call.  “Mom, can you pick me up at the Sky Train Station? I worked a night shift”  My son, now an adult, still occasionally calling mom for a ride home!  Disheveled, flattered, I manage to throw myself together in relatively decent style.  Arriving at his townhouse, my son suggests I view the garden. The small plot of earth carefully arranged with green shoots, annuals and perennials reaching for the sunshine. Lavender bushes. The window box of herbs.  The three raspberry canes, looking forlorn, yet hopeful,  the promise of bearing sweet fruit.   My son asks questions and seeks advice on gardening.  “What’s a good rose to grow?” Depends, if you want a rambler or a climber. Touched, I lovingly recall the little boy he once was and the times we spent looking at the gardens in our neighbourhood, planting the Mother’s Day gift of lupin seeds, a memory from the story we shared, Miss Rumphiusplacing picked flowers into a vase, floating rose petals in a bowl. I ache to go back in time.  What struck me is that the little things we often take for granted, count. Pivotal moments in time.  The walks and talks.  Simple acts, like planting flowers, teach us to appreciate the beauty in life.

Precious gifts of time that we share with one another.  Years ago, my father and grandfather taught me, through their simple actions, to find peace in a garden, to create beauty, to nurture life, to discover hope in the bleakest of conditions.  Their gift of time, passed on to me, passed along to my son.

First Prize 2