"I mean, what do I do all day? It feels like I get nothing done, and still, I'm scrambling." I say it like she doesn't understand.
She leans against the counter with a secret, indulgent smile.
If I could burrow deep into her thoughts, I know they'd be thick and warm right now. But I would also feel the memory of her baby-raising years, pulling at her like sandbags on ropes that chafe across her shoulders. If I paid attention, I might hear the clanging of pots and pans banged against the floor by my toddler-self or the rush of a shopping cart's rickety wheels through a grocery store while she hastily fills a cart before the kids start crying. I would be filled with joy and dueling dismay at the thought of so many mothering years ahead.
She doesn't say anything. In the blur of background that is my house on a school morning, I look into her eyes, the same color as my own, and I see it all there. Blue-grey and simple, honest and happy: there's nothing new under the sun, she says.
But she says it wordlessly, and I hear it soul-deep.
And despite the fact that she hasn't told me the secret of how to solve the problem, my mom has shown me the truth. There is nothing new under the sun.
It makes the day easier, somehow.

"But she says it wordlessly, and I hear it soul-deep."
ReplyDeleteThat line gave me chills. Write on, mama. Write on.
Corinne quoted the exact sentence I'd copied for my own comment :) There is so much beautiful and powerful packed into this, Sarah. Just gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteI hope that I can be this kind of a soul comforter for my daughter. I've never had it from a parent, but I long to BE it....and what Corrine said.
ReplyDeleteLove this. Mothers are so wise.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Adrienne...when I was reading this I was wishing that my daughters will be able to find this kind of solace in me someday.
ReplyDelete