oliviaobryon
Writer. Teacher. Occasional Traveler.
Tag Archives: Mom
It Won’t Be Long Before Another Day…
I remember being three or four years old. My mom would turn on my little cassette of lullabies and lie down next to me until I fell asleep each afternoon, the curtains drawn, darkness tricking me into a nap. Snuggled up to my mom, I felt loved, safe. The feeling is so real, even twenty-five years later, I can still see the light hitting the back of those curtains, feel the warmth of her arms holding onto me, hear her voice gently singing me to sleep.
Time is a funny thing. I can reach back and touch that memory even though thousands of others have slipped by unnoticed. Makes me wonder what I will hold onto from now.
Tonight, I share a little piece of me from twenty-five years ago, a song I caught myself singing while I made dinner tonight. As a kid, I swore it was written for me and my mom. Now, it means even more. A time capsule from the past.
Thankfulness Thursday: Unconditional Love
Autumn sunbeams and floating spider webs above a crystal clear alpine lake,
Warmth and family.
Mom, brother, and one dirty, happy dog.
Driving north on 1-5 Tuesday morning, alone, save for Simon buckled up in the backseat, tears streamed down my face. Headed to visit my mom, who lives three and a half hours away, four words rang true in my head:
I need my mom.
I rarely think those words. I love my mom, yes, but at 29, I rarely think I need her. Realizing these words are still true, I was overtaken by emotion. I need my mom. Words so true tears had to follow.
Separated by time and space, I often forget I need her. We talk less than we should, weekly phone calls stretching into 10 days, 11, 12, sometimes 14. We see each other maybe four times a year. Important visits, but I forget I still need her.
I need that woman who cuts fresh flowers each time I visit, bakes me pies and rubs my head. The woman who plays Scrabble with me and still offers to brush my hair. The very woman who used to call me her baby and carry me around in her arms. Driving alone, I realized I need my mom.
Today I am thankful for a few days in Mt. Shasta, the sun still warm, my mom, my brother, and my dog. Sitting around playing games late into the night. My brother showing me his project with the earth, the cob home he is building, the greenhouse with its foundation, the desk and pile of books alone in the woods. Reminding me of the meaning of unconditional love.
Driving south on I-5 today, rain dotting my dusty windshield, soulful music playing loudly, instead of crying, I smiled and sang at the top of my lungs. Time well spent, reinvigorated, alive. I am thankful for family, our roots strong and connected like trees, unconditional.
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Join in for Thankfulness Thursday and link up your post with Ashley at Domestic Fashionista!
Mom
My mom and I have the same hands. She humored me for this post by letting me take these silly pictures to prove it. Our hands are exactly the same size. In fact, when pressed together, they are mirror images.
The older I get, the more of my mom that I find in myself. Hands, laughter, kindness. I owe much of who I am to her. She influenced me to become a teacher. She showed me how to be brave and not care so much about what others think.
“To thine own self be true.” The most famous words of wisdom from my mom.
For so many years I fought against all of the things that I admire most about her. Refused to eat the right foods, scoffed at activism, pretended not to care about nature. In all of my childish efforts to be different from my mom, I’ve ironically turned out in many ways to be the same.
Better yet, I am now proud of these similarities.
Being a mom has to be one of the hardest jobs on the planet. All of that waiting for your kids to fully appreciate, understand, and embrace your efforts.
Thank you Mom for your patience.
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| My mom and I are more alike than I realize. |
oliviaobryon 