Todays marks the 50th anniversary of my mother's birth. With all due respect, fifty years seems like a very long time, a full half century, in fact. In her lifetime, deeply important events have happened: Vietnam, the Cuban Missal Crisis, the Kennedy Assassinations, the fall of Communism, the election of JPII, Watergate, the Challenger, NAFTA, the map of the human genome, etc . . . There is a surreal quality in recognizing that so many of these events, significant to me only as historical occurrences, were taking place as she learned to walk, to talk, to ride a bicycle, as she began school, as she met my father, and as she became my mother. There is a way, I suppose, in which all of us sort of assume that the world revolves around us. As a result, as I write this, I am sort of struck by the fact that even though she has spent the better part of her life as my mother, she had a life before. I have a hard time trying to see her as anything other than Mom.
On this occasion, there is a great deal that I wish I could write, but somehow none of the words seem proper. I wish there were a funny story or even a serious one that would make the point. Such a story won't come to mind. Perhaps on another day when there are fewer grandchildren and fewer dogs in the house, I will be able to revisit this topic. For now, however, Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I appreciate your comments and thoughts. I do not appreciate vulgarity, attacks on me, the Church, or other people who comment. Comments of this variety will not be published.