All That I Want

Most of you who read this blog now know I became a mother rather late in life:  at the age of 50, to be exact.  My daughter was a toddling 2-year old, I had more energy than, and I was still a relatively new wife, too, having only married four years earlier.

As my daughter has grown older, she’s honored me on Mother’s Day by making some really beautiful  gifts:  A plastic dish from pre-school days featured an original work of art -- stick figures of my husband, me and my daughter (I was the scary looking one) with a big yellow sun and some ominous birds in the scratchy-blue, crayon colored sky.  A flower made out of green and yellow tissue paper stuffed in a fat spaghetti sauce jar in kindergarten.  A Popsicle stick picture frame with her photo in the middle, in second grade.  A small, well-proportioned pot in fifth grade, among other items through the years.  Sweet stuff.

I have also received some lovely jewelry from my husband, but in recent years, he has gravitated toward electronics; initially I worried that he was signaling the” spark” was gone, but no; he was just trying to keep me competitive as these were the electronics of the moment…a Kindle reader, then a tablet and the newest gee-whiz smart phone. Good ideas all and much appreciated.

I love receiving gifts as much as the next person, but the gifts I want now are pretty much those I have to figure out how to give to myself:  The gift of time…to be relaxed and loose and me.  The gift of optimism… for the health and well-being of my family and their future.  And the gift of gab…I mean the gift of listening first, acting later.

Nah.  I want jewelry, too.  And maybe another lovely little handmade pot.

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.