Here’s another Covid first — mother’s day. One of the the most busy restaurant days of the year, after Valentine’s day (official Laurel guess-tistics). Will mom have to cook after all? Will Dad be able to replace the crafts usually made at school to present to Mom today? Who knows, but I hope we all remember we wouldn’t be here on planet earth without a mom; it’s a certainty that she’ll remember you today, as she does every other day of the year. Mom’s give and nurture life – it’s what they do.

And is this a hard day? Yes, for so many it is. It isn’t my favourite day of the year because it feels so focused on children giving voice to their love for their mother. My children can’t speak, don’t understand celebrations, don’t even have a name they use for me. I have been twisted up on so many Mother’s Day celebrations. It is hard, so let’s remember that. Make space for those who grieve today over loss, have memories of poor role models, are wrestling with infertility, or in ways I’m ignorant of — AND still celebrate these women through whom we learned to care for others. We can do both well.

Colours of Mothering

From the first pink blush of affection
I knew I was made for this:
soft charcoal midnights
muddied from want of sleep,
coffee coloured mornings
to stay attentive to learn
your language of emotions
and gardening your growth
into a thousand shades of green,
lit up against the sky-blue
of living hope.

Even now, after living through
the white-out of sorrow,
when my heart bled crimson
and a kaleidoscope of confusion
mixed and melded my love
into soft pearl-gray iridescence
(ideal for displaying my gemstones),
I’m strengthened by the love
of my mother and grandmother
that shines yellow-gold
like it cost them both gladly
their whole lives to give.

© 2020 Laurel Archer