For The Mothers

[Listen to an audio version of this blog here.]

In third grade, I was sent home from school with a case of lice, which had effectively infiltrated my tiny head and the heads of many of my classmates. My mother picked me up from school, sat me down in a hard wooden chair, and went about the arduous process of picking each tiny bug out of my short brown mane. She did this more than once, patiently setting about her hours-long task without complaint. She washed all the bedding and turned the house upside down to ensure the bugs were gone. I, meanwhile, marinated in the novelty of watching cartoons on a school day.

This is one of a hundred million small things my mother did for me. She cooked and cleaned, paid bills, and shuttled me to and from practices, friends houses, and school events. She worked full time and mothered full time, and relentlessly pursued what was good and right. My mother was, and is, nurturing but stern with a kind, gregarious laugh. My life could have turned out many ways, but I credit my mum (and my dad) with guiding to me the next good and right thing and eventually, teaching me to choose the next good and right thing on my own.

As an adult, I appreciate my parents more than ever because, although I’m single and have no children, life is still annoying and hard a lot of the time. And I know that life would be more annoying and eons more…