Mother’s Day
Mother’s Day. It’s a complicated soup like French Onion. First you gently fry onions. Not too much or too little. Then boil. They need to be gratineed, covered in bread & cheese, & broiled. It’s not a simple purée. I am the queen of soups & I’ve never conquered French Onion. Incidentally it was my mother’s fav. One of my sister’s last memories of mom was taking her to PaneraBread before she passed. I took mom to Paris & French Onion Soup was the 1st meal mom wanted. For the rest of her life she would smack, “Not as good as Paris,” when she ordered it, “but still delicious.” She had such a discerning palette & could tell the difference in €10 increments in champagne. She taught me interior design, flower arranging, & art de la table. The latter she would explain is a fancy way to say “Set the table.” She was a voracious reader. One of the smartest women I’ve ever known. She was self-taught. And when I get so depressed, I can’t get out of bed, I worry about becoming her. Depression is her familiar embrace.
Finding a Mother’s Day photo was difficult. All the pics have my dad & she still together or my ex-husband. My mom- who was true Christian having figured out a belief system on her own, also staunchly believed divorce was immoral. She grieved her divorce for the latter half of her life. Part of the reason I do my own work psychologically is I don’t want to do the same. I confront my demons & also sometimes hers. Reminding myself she is not me & I am not her. My mom was brave. She survived incest as a child from an uncle, & in latter years wanted to talk about it & I couldn’t. It was too painful to hear. She was the daughter of an alcoholic & though she loved her dad considering him her savior - the only kind person in her childhood - her own relationship with him was Father’s Day Soup. Most of the photos of mom are from Christmas. I came home most years bringing dozens of gifts. I made traditions. Presents for her to unwrap. If she was ok, I was ok. My whole life I learned to make sure she was ok & thus, I was always ok. She taught me to set boundaries & she respected mine & me. She did her best. In the end that is what we can all hope. To do our best. Xoxo. Miss you Mom
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