Hi, and happy belated mothers day to all you mommies out there. Today, I wanted to write more of an anecdote style post about memories that recently came into my mind (that I don’t want to forget).
As you know from my previous post, my husband and I have been in the hunt for a home. There is 1 in particular that really caught our eyes. Well fast forward, we were discussing how beautiful the yard was and the endless gardening possibilities. He asked me if I’ve ever gardened before and I was instantly hit with a flash back, one that I forgot existed. Growing up, my mom was super handy around the house. Whether it was installing a ceiling fan (by herself mind you), or doing lawn work, she was all in. You know when you buy new items for house that you have to assemble yourself with tools and million pieces? I don’t remember her ever getting frustrated or handing it off to my dad to do. She did it, always. I admired it back then but even more so now. I can remember being a young girl, and her calling me and my sister outside to help her garden. She’d give us tasks fittingly – dig a hole here, press down the soil there, etc. As we’d dig, we would come across worms in the soil. “Eeeww I don’t want to do this”, we’d whine. But she’d have us fling them away and continue. Once the holes were a decent size, she’d put the flowers, seeds, whatever in, and have us put soil back on top patting it down. We’d water them and step into the distance to admire our work. In those moments, you have no idea how meaningful those memories will one day become.
My mom loved to sing. Any time an indian song comes on while I’m driving, it takes me back to those years of sitting in the back seat, getting annoyed because we couldn’t listen to Britney Spears. Every time she’d cook (pretty much every day), she’d sing. Well either sing or yell at us for not helping. I never realized it at the time but I guess we come from a family of music lovers. My dad installed speakers throughout the house, so no matter what room you were in, you’d hear indian prayer songs blaring. It wasn’t an every day occurrence – he saved it for Sunday mornings while they did projects around the house. When all we wanted to do was to sleep, our parents had other plans (musically wake us up). This past Sunday, I caught myself doing the same thing and I realized how habitual it has become for me. On the weekends when I’m doing housework, I always blast indian music and sing along. I don’t know why it took me so long to connect that to my past, but I’m so glad I did.
One mother’s day, the last we shared with our mom, we gave her a simply made photo album. It was pink with quotes throughout. We scoured photos and taped them on the pages hoping it would be perfect for her. After she passed away, while we were going through her belongings, we found that album. Inside, she had written the date and a simple but touching note – ‘I’m so proud of my daughters’. To this day, I reread it, and the fact that it’s in her handwriting makes it that much more special.
It’s not about the gifts or how extravagant occasions are – if it comes from the heart, it’s enough; more than enough – it’s everything. And you have absolutely no idea what an impact you have on a person if you don’t open up and express yourself. Not every situation is ideal. Like every family, we have had our bad times, but those haven’t dimmed the light on the good times. Because once those good times are gone, you mostly forget about the bad times – either that or you use them as a tool to help you in other parts of your life. This is just my experience, so please know that I sympathize with those who do not feel the same or have not had the same experiences. I can only speak from my personal truth. My goal of this post besides sharing what is so dear to me, is to also give light to expression and how awareness and speaking from your heart can make a huge difference even if it’s just for a moment.