A Mother's Love

So many things have been said about mothers, and I'm not sure if I have anything new. Every mother is unique. Some are strict, others are 'best friends' and some are not meant to be mothers at all.

We are often told we'll grow up to be our mothers as if it's some sort of revenge for sins committed when we were wayward teens. We sometimes view this prospect with horror, and other times are thankful we treat our children like our mothers treated us. When my kids tell me I'm cool, I think it's because of my mom.

My mom was born during the waning years of the Great Depression, in a region rife with unemployment at the best of times. She did her best to help her mother with cleaning up after three brothers and a not so perfect father.

She also coped with moving a lot with three kids and a husband who spent a lot of time on business trips. We could have turned out to be real head cases, being teenagers in the Seventies, but I think we turned out pretty good.

Mom talked to us. She joked with us. She opened her door to our friends. We cared for her and she cared for us in return, which might seem like a back asswards situation, but it was.

Mom was excruciatingly shy. She didn't like to leave the house, and didn't want anyone to see her. But when we had visitors or when she was at the grocery store, she lit up the place. Her sense of humour put everyone at ease, and I think laughter helped us achieve success with our relationships and our children.

She sang oldies all the time. Sometimes, I find myself belting out Isn't It Romantic while doing the dishes, just like she did when I was a kid.

Mom is a thousand miles away, back in her home town of Saint John, New Brunswick. I miss her and I love her. I hope to see her soon.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. Of course, you and I know that Mother's Day is Every Day.