Here I sit, feeling the gentle coolness of the breeze and the comforting warmth of the sun on this Mother’s Day.  I am almost never home on Mother’s Day because it falls, if not on the day, always on the weekend of Rick’s (provider of love and support’s) birthday.  You will usually find me on a warm beach, on a cold beach, floating in a mineral pool, or riding on the back of a motorcycle through the mountains.  This year we are home. (Not to worry, the birthday has been properly celebrated for the last week; as it should be.) 

            I have been a bit out of sorts this weekend.  Not because my children are not gathered around me.  Not because I injured my knee Friday and have no yoga, no sitting like a lotus.  Not because I barely slept Friday night.  Not because I dubbed my latest project a total fail. 

            Well, maybe the failed project, which I knew going in would not be the outcome of the envisioned project, but a step, an experiment or test to see if my idea would work.  Did I say that I knew that going in?  And it actually will be perfect the next time.  Sometimes my immediate gratification girl steps up and says, “What?!?  I’ve been waiting politely and now we are starting over…” throwing herself to the floor, kicking and sobbing indecipherable wows.  (Rick and I are both thankful that this girl is, for the most part, contained internally.)

            It truly is not any one of these things.  I know my children are happy and healthy in their lives, knowing I am on some grand birthday adventure.  Quite likely it is a combination of them all that put me out of sorts.

            In the wee hours of this morning my mind offered up a potential pity party; combining anything that may have had me out of sorts in the last 10 months and presenting it all in a totally confusing, dreamlike dream.  When the party was at it’s peak of ridiculous confusion and frustration, my mother appeared. 

            My mother comes to my dreams from time to time and sits, quietly, reassuringly present.  I awaken knowing she has visited and all will be well.  This morning she spoke!  I am not able to recall and accurately quote, but she clearly told me it was time to let go of things and go forward with the life I was capable of and meant to have. 

            Not only did my mother speak, my father joined us!  He spoke with my mother and to me.  My father has not been a big visitor in my dreams.  Can you sense my wonder?

            It all ended with me driving, realizing I was in the back seat, then my father at the wheel, then me driving from the driver’s seat and all the while my mother riding shot gun.  Our destination, a waterslide, which my father slid down backwards and fully clothed.  I recall thinking he really shouldn’t be doing that with his shoes on, when I noticed a man (whom I did no know) floating on an innertube, surrounded by laughing, swim suit clad children.  He was fully dressed, shoes and all. 

             I awakened to sun filling the room and a Happy Mother’s Day text from my daughter.

            Here I sit, feeling the coolness of the breeze and the comforting warmth of the sun.

Isabella Stewart

Note: I sat down this morning to write a poem, but it makes me cry to write poetry (potentially another blog another day).  Happy Mother's Day to all loving mothers and all who love their mothers (or mother-in-laws).