Mother's Day Reminiscing . . .

I know I am borrowing from a photograph last year.

But then, I am also borrowing the essence of today

from a woman who was a mother

and played the role inspired by her mother.

Needlessly, I was my Mama's baby.

From the time I was born in her menopausal years

she worried about my state of health and sanity.

Would I turn out normal?

Would I get over my boredom with school?

Would I be able to restrain my hyperactive self?

Yes, I turned out normal 

if by normal meant I can go to school

and mind my manners . . .

No, I was forever bored with school.

I would complain about it from nursery school to my college years. 

I can not concentrate. The birds distract me a lot. I get sleepy . . .

How my mother survived my moods and impatience

is indeed a virtue.

No.

I was, and is, hyper.

I talk faster than a speed of light.

I work and do things at the same speed.

Mama always worried about my quirkiness

but then she was most proud of my multi-personality:

I can do/learn a lot of things in seconds.

I was a handy gofer since I was a kid.

And I still am.

Some mothers fear for their children.

My mother feared for me all her life

and yet, in her deathbed,

when she feared death hovering

I was her quirky nurse

telling her not to be afraid because I wasn't.

To let go and leave all her worries in her old sick body.

To fly to the moon, dance in London,

watch fashion in Paris, attend mass in Rome,

and meet my Papa in heaven . . .

And when she finally left

with a smile on her face

I felt fear engulf me.

With no one to encourage and inspire me

I felt vulnerable and alone.

But mothers do not really leave their children.

Somewhere, somehow, some strange wonderful moments

will make it known

that the bond is always connected.

. . . colorful threads, novena prayers, scents of roses and rose petals,

church bells ringing for angelus, the lace fan and veil,

the soft warm tummy, the cheekbones, red nail polish,

red lipstick, sunset sighs, dog hairs,

sewing machine and beaded bag.

Happy Mothers day to everyone!

May you always connect to the one who gave birth to you . . .