I love Mother’s Day. It’s the kind of day that starts with everyone at home trying to please me in every way possible. My husband makes an effort and doesn’t forget to make coffee the night before, and he even takes the opportunity to bring a cup to bed. The kids play more quietly so as not to wake me up early (although I love waking up to their little noises), I give them endless hugs all day long, and the three of them take my wishes as orders. My gifts usually include: photos in a hand-painted picture frame (long live teachers!), a cake made and decorated with an excess of sweets on top (and, of course, a kitchen to clean, but who complains when the intention is so noble?). I also get flowers, often super fresh, just picked from the garden. These are sweet and happy days when I try very hard to turn my eyes into a portrait camera so I can remember the small facial expressions – so beautiful – of those around me.
In this perfect picture, there is always a little piece missing. Mom, despite living here in the United States, lives far away and so we rarely get to spend Mother’s Day together. She spends time there and I spend time here. We always talk and I know she is fine, but it would be so nice… I keep thinking, my mom is not that far away. Pitia, who is the mother of Aurora who is about to be born, is in Canada and her mother is in the south of Brazil. So many dear friends have lost their mothers… thinking about it, I see how lucky we are.
My mother, who took care of me for all these years (and still does), who taught me how to be a mother, who advises me every time I don’t know what to do, continues to be the strength she always was. In fact, I think mothers become even more “super” when they become grandmothers: they know how to make the most of the moment, they have infinite patience and a broad and clear vision that nothing lasts forever. To all mothers, near and far, this Sunday, carpe diem.