Think we all know a person can be a mother -- by which I mean a good one -- though she has no children of her own. Men can be good mothers! We are also aware (too aware) that there are mothers who are unable or unwilling to be good mothers. But most try. And whether we had the kind of mother portrayed in this poem or not, we try to remember the good things our mothers did, and forgive the bad. Hope you have a good Mother's Day. Blessings always, Phyllis
Smiling at a Napkin Ring {or, Real Mothers, Please Sit}
. . .things you didn’t notice that you notice, looking back. Things so small, you'd think they wouldn’t matter. The time she took to adjust the light to make home, well, home. Not too bright, not too dim. Not anything like the green florescents that pinned you to a desk and forced you to compose. Not like the “home” you and your friend groped through. One of you flicked the switch, every chair, every table, every speck of floor was littered. Dirt gummed. Sure explained dark. Going back to light, remember her eyes watching a silly glass bird you gave her shatter. Tears flowed because she “shouldn’t have squeezed so tight.” Breeze could have broken the silly thing. Not important, but so, she picked you up the day of a test she knew had been bugging. Boss lit into her, you found out by accident. Part-time gig not the one she needed to take. She was relieved, she pretended. “Resume doesn’t need plumping.” Far less important things sailed by. Remember that “had-to-have” outfit you needed sooooo bad? “Great sale!” she crowed. “Looks like the tag disappeared.” She had on jeans she had worn since the wheel was invented. She saw that at least one flower graced the kitchen table. More than once “forgot” to steam broccoli. Napkin at each place in a ring she said looked “like a lump of you-know-what.” Looked in at night, knowing you couldn’t really sleep without her kiss and hug. She dusted around “valuable” junk. She scrubbed her nails brittle; she laughed at jokes so old they creaked. Yes, and forgot and called you by the dog’s name, dog by yours. How the two of you roared. Yes, and cried. “Almost died” still rings. Remind you to tell how napkins poke from rings on your dining table. Flower in the middle, flower at a place for her. Oh, to hear her carry on.
(c) Phyllis Jean Green, May, 2005
Want to review or comment on this poem?
Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Reviews of "Smiling at a Napkin Ring {or, Real Mothers, Please Sit}"
A wonderful write of revealation. There are some resentments in this write that can make you very unhappy in your life even upto now and more, and I can say that I'm familiar with these feelings of resentments.
I understand these feelings of between being "loved" and "unloved" by your mother, for I have these mixed feelings as well while I was growing up. However, these past years my mom and I had gotten really close together, and I found out a lot of good things about her that I hadn't noticed before when I was a kid.
I think if we look past our mom's weaknesses and acknowledge their strength, and realizing that they aren't supposed to be the perfect mom that everyone has stereotyped women to be, the relationship would grow stronger with each passing day; and yes, "love" for one another does grow under such circumstance.
People always stereotype what a mothers should be, without realizing that mothers are just human beings like you and me, and yes we do have our own individual personalities. Some qualities are very unique and no one has the same mother as another. If we learn to love our mothers' unique quality, then I think we all can come to accepting life in a more positive manner. Afterall, we, ourselves, aren't perfect daughters either, but are being loved by them unconditionally. Why then should we demand so much of our parents?
Hey PJ, don't you know we mother's can't be wined and dined without someone forgetting to clear off the table, bag up the scraps, take out the garbage, etc. etc. We Mothers just get tired of having someone else take their time to do it whether it's our day or not :-)
No matter how we felt about our mothers, when they are no longer with us, it is a very sad time in our lives. Fortunately, my mother who will be 80 this year, is still doing well. I hope she handed down those longevity genes to me. This is a beautiful tribute, Pea. Nice to read one from you again.
Take care,
Sherry
It's almost Christmas. Lynn Basil is writing her last book about a secret entrance into the magical doll land of Sha Bebe that she loves so much. Bagannos have taken over the world! Lynn finally meets her dolls in real life. Can she write in a Secret
A wicked Cajun Fairy named Robes Pierre entered the impenetrable Magical doll land of Sha Bebe. Queen Faustina, the ruler of the doll land, thought she had destroyed him, but he's back! Will the doll land survive his evil ways?
God bless,
Sandie.
A wonderful write of revealation. There are some resentments in this write that can make you very unhappy in your life even upto now and more, and I can say that I'm familiar with these feelings of resentments.
I understand these feelings of between being "loved" and "unloved" by your mother, for I have these mixed feelings as well while I was growing up. However, these past years my mom and I had gotten really close together, and I found out a lot of good things about her that I hadn't noticed before when I was a kid.
I think if we look past our mom's weaknesses and acknowledge their strength, and realizing that they aren't supposed to be the perfect mom that everyone has stereotyped women to be, the relationship would grow stronger with each passing day; and yes, "love" for one another does grow under such circumstance.
People always stereotype what a mothers should be, without realizing that mothers are just human beings like you and me, and yes we do have our own individual personalities. Some qualities are very unique and no one has the same mother as another. If we learn to love our mothers' unique quality, then I think we all can come to accepting life in a more positive manner. Afterall, we, ourselves, aren't perfect daughters either, but are being loved by them unconditionally. Why then should we demand so much of our parents?
Above is just my 2 cents worth of opinion.
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)
Smile on, Dear Mothers Everywhere!
cynth'ya
a lovely write
peace
Happy Mother's Day
Happy Mom's Day!!
love Tinka
Love Tinka
Take care,
Sherry
Happy Mother's Day to you, too!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla. :)