Another holiday, like New Year’s Day and Valentine’s Day where it is easy to feel marginalized, when people like airport attendants and restaurant hosts assume you are a mom, even if you’re not. Remember: you missed the boat.
And/or you can choose to focus on your mother. Is this the second or third Mother’s day since she died? Well, it seems like only yesterday.
It’s also been raining, hard. So I’ve had a good cry. I believe in good cries.
I remember things that I bought for my mother for mother’s day: a small, delicate, orange glass cream pitcher that sat on the hutch for years, velcro closing terry shower wraps, charms for bracelets, cards and flowers. Nothing extraordinary, adequate.
I just put together why a friend was heading out to visit his mother’s grave. A new way to celebrate Mother’s Day.
Maybe I’ll call some of my aunts.
The Art for the Day is: on the edge between nostalgia and sentimentality
posted by the other Joan @ 11:03 PM
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