“Mom would love a letter”
by
Gerry Niskern
Have you bought your Mother’s Day card yet? Are there special things you’ve always wanted to tell her, but none of the cards seem to say it just right?
That’s because the mothers we see on greeting cards with the saintly smiles are perfect, but are they really mom? It’s through mom and the comfort of home that we learn to trust others and life itself. Mother is the twine that holds the family together. And yet often she is a mysterious set of contradictions. It’s hard to sort out your feelings for her: annoyance, anger, companionship, apprehension and yes, love.
Frustrating, isn’t it? I have a novel idea for you. Forget the fancy cards this year and instead, write your mother a letter!
I know. You probably haven’t written a personal letter since letter writing class in fourth grade English. Besides, if you are like most adult children in this electronic age, you always phone, text message, or get online for a chat.
I’m not suggesting a gushy, cloying type of correspondence that will embarrass both you and her…just a few lines of remembering. It doesn’t have to be hand written. If your handwriting is as bad as mine, computer generated is fine if that’s more readable. But put it in an envelope and mail it. It doesn’t matter if she lives here and you’ll probably be seeing her on Mother’s Day or miles away. Everyone, especially moms, likes to get a personal letter in the mail.
One year, while living in another state, when I couldn’t get home for Mother’s Day, I decided to send my mother what I call an “I remember” letter.
“Mom,” my letter began, “Lately, I’ve been remembering the time you spent showing me how to gently lift the baby chicks out of the incubator and trusted me to do it. And how you taught me how to carefully pick the raspberries and helped us set up a roadside stand and helped celebrate each sale. Remember how I rode on your back sledding in the winter? And how you let me cook anything I wanted and encouraged me to be creative ?”
As I penned that letter, I realized that what I was remembering was really about a commodity we call time. I continued writing, “Also the time you spent brushing and braiding my hair, making Halloween costumes, and sitting on the porch swing and talking together.”
It’s really so simple yet difficult. Mothers need to care enough to spend that precious time that no one seems to have enough of these days. Time to pay attention, Time to talk. Time to just sit together and do nothing.
It doesn’t matter if your mom was biological, adoptive, step, grand, foster or single. If she spent time with you then, take some time now and tell her what you remember.