What is it like to have a mother?
What is it like?
How does it feel?
What do you talk about?
When and how often do you see each other?
What does she say about your ambitions, lifestyle?
Is she meddlesome?
Is she proud?
Does she tell you her real age?
Does she tell you about the sweet noises you made as an infant?
When she walks into a room does she illuminate it with her maternal presence?
Is your mother very feminine?
Do you act like your mother?
Do you say the same things that she says?
Do you laugh about it?
Do you argue?
Does she like your spouse?
Does she still tell you what to do?
How has she changed over the years?
Is it frightening to watch her grow older?
Do you complain about your mother to other people?
Do you still call her mommy?
Have you ever called her by her first name?
Have you considered that she may live with you one day?
Are you going to take care of your mother in her old age or put her in convalescent care?
How do you honor her?
How does she honor you?
Are your hearts still tied together like they were when you first suckled her milk?
Do you imagine what it was like in her womb?
Is your mother beautiful?
Could you live a day without her?
My mother has an unkempt grave that I visited twice.
The first time I visited, I was a little girl. I dropped red carnations on the weeds that were starting to grow over top of her name.
On the second visit, I was a woman. Her flat, modest headstone was hidden from my sight. In my fervent search to find my mother’s resting place, I stumbled on the very thing I was looking for. When I planted my feet firmly before her grave, my birth canal ached and bled my own mother’s blood. I never returned.
I can never go back. My mother’s countenance is now just a dimly lit memory; her name, never spoken from my lips. I have no pictures or trinkets or proof that she ever lived, except for what is in my heart. No one visits my mother’s grave anymore. Everyone is gone.
Please, share with me how it feels to have a mother. Let my ears hear the joy in your heart so that I may know how to have the strength, once again, to knock on death’s door and request the darkness audience. I have so much to share with her, and a chasm to overcome.