After two weeks of: back to back meetings; looming deadlines; computers with blocked sites (five minutes after workshop attendees sat down to start); a book launch; book deliveries; invoicing; a fridge that stopped working for three days; and a disappointingly avoidable speeding ticket, there was one thing I was hanging out for ….
Sunday afternoon would see me sitting down with one of the people responsible for bringing me into this world … mum.
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© The Ponder Room
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While the upward spiralling pace of life sees us steadfastly pursuing the next object, desire or goal, it’s all too easy to forget about the people who made our lives possible.
The ones we hid behind on our first day at school. Who pushed us through the heavy classroom doors, giving us our first taste of freedom. Who explained the ‘less is more’ rule, the first time we sprang exuberantly from the bedroom festooned in rouge, and drowning under so much mascara that our lashes stuck together. Who let us in on the secret ‘cleavage to material’ ratio that would entice, but not overwhelm, the current object of our affection. Who pointed out the previously unseen toad-like qualities of our first ‘true love’, who inevitably left us in a crumpled teary mess on the couch. Who made sure our first kitchen had a copy of the CWA Cookbook, while turning a blind eye to the sexy lingerie and satin sheets wafting on the clothesline.
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© The Ponder Room
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After my weekly soul boosting cupper with my mum, I’m left pondering how it is that mothers can constantly dust us off, put life back into perspective, then add the right amount of sympathy and forcefulness to get us back on the path again. I’m beginning to think they slip something into our tea.
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© The Ponder Room
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To all mothers out there and those living on in their children’s memories … thank you.
