It occurs to me that some people are at odds with their mothers.
One guy I know got bilked out of money, $85,000 to be exact, although he said it wasn’t about the money exactly. A pushy and domineering nurse I met said her mother was too pushy and domineering to ever befriend, and mothers aren’t supposed to be friends anyway. Another woman I know abandoned her mother totally because she was abandoned as a child and blamed all her drug-addled problems on her drug-addled mother.
For whatever reason, mothers seem to be put on pedestals, to stand to be worshipped or to fall to be scorned. It’s like motherhood suddenly makes them susceptible to kryptonite. They leave behind normality as if giving birth is exclusive to these few generations.
No longer daddy’s little girl or the babe bopping down the beach with the radio, mothers sacrifice their virginity and are expected to all become Virgin Marys.
Moms are given no time to figure it out as if they were wired all along, part of their DNA, to care, nurture and protect. There are no accolades for being a good mom, only the inevitability of the lifetime role and the yearly canned sentiments from Hallmark every May. They shouldn’t cry or show any weakness, or even worse, they should never, under any circumstances, confide.
I wish my mother was still around for another spoonful of sugar and another game of pinochle. I wish she was around so that I could hug her for Mother’s Day. I wish she were here just to get me a blanket, because I’m cold without her. I’m shivering in this Cazenovia spring like a junkie with a jagged edge, like a little boy jonesing for that familiar elixir.
Willie Kiernan is a past editor of the Cazenovia Republican and a contributing columnist at Eagle Newspapers. He can be reached at email@example.com.