I wake up each day and check Facebook memories, looking for a glimpse of my mother. And it is a glimpse, because as mothers we don’t put ourselves front and center. We hang back and take care of it all. It’s hard to be in the pictures when you are always the one taking them. Or in the kitchen doing dishes. But that’s mother’s for you, the magical fairies that get the impossible done day in and day out, most of us without thanks or praise, or help, even though we deserve it.
I wish I’d taken more pictures of my mother. But special occasions get hectic, and moms are always in the kitchen cooking, or someone already went home so we just don’t bother making the effort. And on ordinary days, the complaint may be that our hair isn’t right or we aren’t happy with our body or we didn’t do our makeup. There is always a reason to not take a picture.
And then we start to age. And our mothers age too and eventually die. And suddenly we realize that we spent 20 years in the background making life happen. And someday someone will look for pictures of us and only find glimpses. If the passing of a parent teaches us anything, it is of our own mortality.
Today is my mother’s birthday. She would’ve been 72. I still miss her fiercely but I would say that I’ve gotten more used to her absence. That alone is its own blessing. But I still wish I’d taken more pictures. I hope I can change this for my own children.
Happy Birthday, Mom! I know you are always right here inside of me, but I still look for you everywhere I go. ❤️