She was there with you, surrounding you, while you grew arms and legs and eyelids. Your heart beat in harmony with hers. Her blood was your blood; her oxygen, yours. She kept you safe and protected before she even knew what your face looked like or how your voice would sound when you giggled.
Your mother wrapped her arms and love around you the first time you inhaled life and cried it back out. And she never let go. She cleaned parts of you that no one else would, stayed awake with you when her own body begged for sleep, and did it all with a tenderness that defies explanation.
You learned to walk and talk and play, and your mommy was there to watch your progress. She put dangers out of reach and taught you that “NO” was a word you
needed to learn. There were days when you battled and days you sang songs together. But every day was a day of love.
School took you away from her. It was exciting for you; your mother cried after the bus was out of sight so you wouldn’t see. She packed your lunchbox with
brownies and love notes. And when you came home each day she was there, waiting, with smooches and smiles.
You became and adolescent; then a teenager. Your mom faded into the background of your daily life. Friends. Homework. Dates. Mom was your chauffeur, your cook, your chaperone—and sometimes, your jailer.
Loving her one minute, hating her the next, you slammed doors and spewed defiance with a fury you didn’t really mean. And all the while, she loved you just the same.
Years go by in a blur. Grown and married, your time belongs to your own family. Children and work hold your life captive. Your mother lives somewhere else, maybe in another state; too far to visit often. You call her when you have a minute and she is right there, waiting to hear your every problem.
The most trivial detail of your mundane life brings and interested, “oh, really?” from the woman who continues to worry about you and pray for you the same way she always has.
Your children grow up and move away. The house is empty. You have time, now, to think back—to remember how good it felt to be a child; to have someone hug you when you didn’t deserve it. Someone to delight in the sound of your laughter. To listen to you cry and swallow your tears with a kiss.
Nobody else remembers your favorite toy, your first school play, the time you fell from the monkey bars and scared her half to death. No one you’ve ever known can sing a lullaby or tell a bedtime story with a smile in her voice the way your mother did.
The years may have changed her role in your life, but she has always been the one person who knows you best.
Don’t let Mother’s Day go by without telling your mother how much you love and need her. She knows it already, but you need to say it. You’ll see the love of a lifetime in her smile, and nothing else will ever feel as warm.
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Mom’s love - McDonough Voice
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