Mothering Sunday

“Motherhood: All love begins and ends there.” ~ Robert Browning

The celebration of mothers is held in March in England. The day used to be called Mothering Sunday. It's now called Mother's Day as it is on this side of the pond. I liked the old name. For in truth, I believe Mother's Day shouldn't just be about mothers but also about all those women who mother us. In my family that includes my sisters who have mothered me plenty and have also mothered my son. And it includes the moms of Jacob's friends - the network of women who have shared our children these many years, chauffered them around, fed them, housed them, nursed them through broken hearts and provided them with safe places to go on those days they most wanted to run away from home.

My Mother's Day celebration was glorious yesterday. Jacob and Merv bought me a beautiful fountain for the upstairs deck. It is the place I like to sit and read or do my beading on warm summer days. The fountain has a very Zen feel to it and a soothing burbling sound. After presenting me with the gift, they took me to a lovely Italian restaurant for lunch. I noticed that there were tiny vases on each table with a couple of pretty flowers in each. But there was one table with a big, glorious arrangement of white roses, pink tulips and exotic flowers with names I do not know. I wondered who the lucky woman was who would be receiving that arrangement. It was of course, me. After about an hour in the restaurant, Merv slipped out to feed the meter. Jacob took the opportunity during those few minutes we had alone, to tell me how grateful he is to have me as his mom. That was the best gift of all. My cup runneth over.