I managed to stay awake until 2 a.m. Considering the time I wake each morning (anywhere from 4 a.m. to 6 a.m.), I was doing pretty well lasting that long. All was fine; I picked up the text from my son just a few hours after it was sent at 2:30. He was letting me know he was home, safely, after a convoluted work trip with unanticipated layovers, delays, and a very long (post-midnight) cab ride from a not-even-close-to-proximate airport.
After seeing the text, I breathed a sigh of relief, and knowing he would still be asleep, I went about my usual business. For the moment, that means coffee, Sunday newspaper, editing, writing. Also on my short list (every day): wondering what my sons are up to, how they’re doing, and how my other (non-biological) “kids” are faring in their equally non-proximate real-world spheres, and hoping — at times more than hoping — that all is well with each and every one of them.
As one son sleeps and his brother, overseas, who knows my morning rhythms, is likely cycling somewhere and can be expected to call this afternoon, I receive two texts. Each is sending love and wishing me a happy Mother’s Day; neither is from biological offspring. And while these aren’t my flesh-and-blood kiddos, I worry about them, hope to hear from them, and sometimes bug them (because I love them) — just like my own.
The capacity of the human heart never fails to impress me: its capacity to expand as it — as we — grow in our ability to love one another. We may be bruised or bent or even banished (for a time) by those to whom we give our hearts, yet we keep showing up. And we keep showing up in our ability to parent, to care for each other as if we are parents, whether or not age, an “official” role, or biology is involved.
That is what I’m thinking about today as I find myself grateful that one Millennial son wasn’t annoyed as I asked to know that he was home safe-and-sound — somewhat unusual for me considering he’s an adult, but yesterday’s mood left me aching to be reassured; as I grin ear-to-ear that the Millennial young woman who is so much a sibling to my boys (and whom I’ve watched grow up) sends Mother’s Day love from the other hemisphere; that the thirty-something daughter of my former significant other does the same, allows me to remain part of her life, and regularly checks in on me as I check in on her. It was her grandmother who was, to me, a very loving mother, long after my own had passed away.
How fortunate we are to know such gifts of the heart.
We all need “mothering” from time to time, don’t we? Does this kind of mothering — so warm, so genuine, so fulfilling — really require a biological connection?
My neighbor, a few years younger than myself, also texts her Mother’s Day wishes. I’ve been known to “mother” her a bit as well, and the behavior has been reciprocal. We’ll get together later this afternoon and sip a glass of something, chat about this and that, be “girls” together…
I’m reminded that whether or not we are mothers (or fathers), step-mothers (or step-fathers), caregiving aunts (or uncles), doting godmothers (or godfathers), lifelong family friends or new neighbors — caring for one another comes much more naturally than we give ourselves credit for. That is what I wish to celebrate today. And those are the wishes I would like to send — to all those who reach out to the people they love, to the people who need them, and know the pleasure of giving of oneself.
Am I sentimental today?
No doubt.
And grateful. Grateful for so much.
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Although at the moment, I have none of the close human relationships that you mention, I am sentimental today too.
I’m happy to hear that you have in real life a new found friend in your new home, D.A.! Sweet!!