If you’re one of those people caught up in the spirals and twists of Bates’ Motel, the word “Mother” has a special meaning. Especially when said by a 20 year old with a slight sarcastic lilt to his voice.
Carefully written on the front of the envelope, capital “M” mother.
I laughed aloud as my son handed me his card and asked me to wait a moment as he brought down my present. It was early for a Sunday. We both “slept in” until 7:30am.
Funny. I haven’t slept in late since Son #1 was born. He is my early riser. Anything past 9am is cause for alarm and the taking of temperatures.
Once again, we were on the couch sharing the quiet morning with the wren happily singing in the tree outside of the living room window. My man-boy picked out a simple card with a peony on the front and a blurb about the first known flower appearing in China over 140 million years ago. And he signed it with extra care to make his scrawling handwriting somewhat legible. I swear he will either be a doctor or a serial killer with that handwriting. It’s tough to decipher.
But in the card, his most careful penmanship, the word “Love” followed by his name. He’s still a little boy inside looking for his mom’s approval…
I gushed, I appreciated, and I was overjoyed with his gift, but more so, I was thrilled with the prospect of a day spent together with my immediate family.
I’m sure the joy portion was more for me than the rest of them. I took them on one of my favorite country drives, up through the mountains, into the forest, and next to the river. I wanted to eat lunch at a great restaurant on the lake, but that was not in the cards. The restaurant wasn’t open for lunch (on Mother’s Day, go figure!) but we did the drive regardless.
We stopped at an amazing bakery and bought cinnamon swirl bread fresh out of the oven, French vanilla muffins, pretzel rolls, triple berry bagels, and cannoli. We joked about running out of gas but not starving to death because we had our goodies to keep us fed.
We drove further North and found a Mother’s Day buffet at a local restaurant and sampled the fare: prime rib (all of our favorite), turkey breast, shrimp, flounder, calamari, stuffed mushrooms, antipasti skewers, potato pancakes, eggs Benedict, marshmallow yams, and chocolate dipped strawberries. And I had peanut butter pie, a treat that I don’t normally get.
We drove back home, searching for radio channels, singing songs from the 70’s and 80’s, and them teaching me the words of songs from this millenium. Cell phones were out as they SnapChatted photos of us together to their friends and compared each others’ Mother’s Day activities.
I loved it all.
This may have been some lame road trip with their mom (in their eyes), but it meant something special to me. It represented a countdown, for I realize my job “raising” them is coming to a close. As the days turn to weeks, and the weeks turn to months, the slow decay of time leads us to forks in the road that are inevitable.
The day of leaving is quickly approaching for Son #1. His time in school is ending in a few years and the door to Real Life is in view. I’m sad because he will leave home one day…only to return as a visitor. The others will follow his lead. But I am so happy, so proud of him, for the man he’s become, so proud of them all! One day all of these kids will be let loose on the world and I feel deep in my heart that I’ve raised them to make their corner of existence a better place.
Even if it’s something as simple as the respect and love they carry for the woman they call “Mother”.