Since it’s Mothers’ Day…

childhood

It happens to us all.

No matter how old you are, there are always bad days. Days when someone calls you too fat to fit in the doorway. Days when you lose the keys that you shouldn’t have. And particularly those days when you’re too depressed to do anything but slouch on the couch, eyes closed.

It’s happened to me loads of times. But just knowing that there’s someone out there, only too eager to listen, can raise me up.

Of course, I’m talking about my mother. (You didn’t think of anyone else, did you? (this being Mothers’ Day, an’ all))

Funny how mothers always seem to listen without judging. (Ya, you can say the same thing about fathers, siblings and even some friends, but that’s not the point) Mothers are always a league apart, no denial.

That one thing I can never talk to anyone about? I can talk to my mother. Sometimes, you don’t need advice, you don’t need a multi-tasker, who listens to you while watching a movie.

Sometimes, what you need is someone who gives you her full attention, without cutting you off, saying she’d call back, or nod off to a slumber. My mother might not starve herself, waiting for me to eat first, she might not stay up all night watching me sleep like a log. But when I need her, she’s just there, listening.

But that’s not the best thing. Even though I’m away from home, I can always reach out to her. Not just by phoning her, but by just thinking of her.

I talk to my mother, just imagining her sitting next to me. Nodding, smiling, understanding, saying “oohs” and “aahs” just at the right time. And when I’m done ranting, I can imagine her patting me in the shoulder and saying, “ok, go eat something.”

No one else can ever do that.


Celebrating mothers. Happy Mothers’ Day. Any day.

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