For My Marmie

There's something about a mother and something extra spectacular about mine. Mothers know how to love you the best and comfort you the most. And they always make it seem that whenever you leave the nest, wonderful things are waiting for you. I hear my mother's voice when I think of what Marmie March says to her daughter in Little Women, "Jo, you have so many extraordinary gifts; how can you expect to lead an ordinary life? You're ready to go out and find a good use for your talent. Tho' I don't know what I shall do without my Jo. Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it."

Something that makes my mother perfect for me is that she knew what I needed at different times in my life. When I was little, she knew I needed lots of one-on-one time snuggling and talking. And let's be honest, not much has changed. When I was in junior high, and too nervous to eat in the lunchroom, she knew the perfect place for me was eating with her in her classroom. She never seemed to worry that I wouldn't eventually blossom, but acted instead like it was the bright spot in her day. Even now, my mother knows when to invite me home for a dinner pregnant with good conversation and the best flavors so that she can remind me that, yes, everything will work out for me (the big fear of my 20s). She knows when I've needed some coddling; she knows when I've needed a cheer.

 

My mother, for the record, is many things. She's a loyal friend, a disciple, a caring neighbhor, a fierce athlete, an explorer, a world traveler, and a wonderful grandmother. But, in honor of this Sunday, the mother in my mother is what I choose to celebrate. So here's to my Marmie, who has spent her life making everyone else's a beautiful thing.