Authors Note: This story was originally published in 2022; reading it again today, I was surprised by the fact that early May is just as cold this year as it was four years ago. I recently started swimming again after a knee replacement in mid-March. My mother, 27 years my senior, had a knee replacement 5 days after me. Over the last two months we have only talked on the phone as we both work through recovering from our procedures. As we don’t live in the same area, we have not seen each other.
Time has marched on since I wrote this story, but the words remain true. Tomorrow I will be celebrating Mother’s Day with my mother and mother-in-law, both in their mid-80s. My husband and I are fortunate that we are each still able to celebrate with our moms.
To all mothers: Happy Mother’s Day!
Last week, in the 32 degree weather, I headed to swim in the pool outside. I was intent on just reusing words I had written in the spring of 2020, for my next story. As I started to move through the warm water, thoughts and words swam around me. At the foundation of these thoughts, were the original words:
Growing up, I always considered my paternal grandmother (who I was very close to) the be strongest woman I knew. She had gone through tragedy and continued to carry herself with strength and dignity. I wanted to emulate my grandmother. She is still held as a role model to live up to. Like an Oak tree, my “Ana” was tall and strong.
My mother, on the other hand, is more like a flower in the desert. Something that has to have incredible strength to endure the hardships of where it has to grow.
Like a flower, my mother doesn’t appear as if she would have the need of strength. She has had to go through more than one person should have to. Over the past few years, I have come to recognize that my strength comes somewhat from my grandmother, but mostly from my mom. Not only was my mother strong in the hand that she was dealt in life, but has helped me to be strong when I needed it most. She would have come to London, after the Lockerbie tragedy, had I wanted her to. When I was going through a dark period, she came to Boston to be with me. She helped lift me up when I was separated from my first husband and pregnant with my firstborn; then through my eldest daughter’s first year of life. As life goes on, my mom continues to be here for me and I try to be there for her. I hope her strength will pass on to my daughters.
With each stroke made while moving through the water, I realized that I have surrounded myself with strong women, all mothers. I envisioned a garden where the flora represented my friends. A kind of poem started to form….
Each time I swam this past week, I thought about this poem (I am not poet). In the end, I couldn’t think of one of my friends who has not had to carry something heavy in their soul. Does everyone have to go through hard times? I look at my grandmother, my mother… perhaps this is human nature. I don’t know the answer. What I do know is that my family and my friends are resilient, each with a special strength to be revered.
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