My Mother

IMG_0016She lies on a table with her knee open. The surgeon skillfully wields his tools like a master building a new, improved version.

The end goal:  her bones will no longer rub together each time she takes a step or lunges for a tennis ball on the court.  The pain will cease…but first, recovery.

It took her many years to reach this decision and it was her decision alone.  No one could talk her into it.

My Mother.  She leads her own life.  She doesn’t hand over her authority. She shows me every day how to let the recommendations, advice, suggestions, and “orders” from “experts” and those around her roll past her like water flowing down a stream.  She may stick her hands in to capture the water and give it a taste to see if it’s to her liking but the choice is all hers.

My Mother.  She loves with all her heart without condition. She gave up judgments after she had an intimate five-year relationship with depression.  If you met her today you would never know there was a moment in time when all she could do was crawl from her bed to the bathroom.  Speaking became unbearable so she whispered.  Her laugh was buried so deep, layered by the pain; we didn’t hear it for years.

But she found the strength within to find her way home, to love.  She made amends with herself and her mind.

She let go.

Her laugh was something my entire family craved and now I hear it every time I speak with her on the phone or see her.  She exudes joy.  I hear her laugh in my mind now.  What a glorious sound.

My Mother.  She taught me to lead my own life, let go and love unconditionally.  To me, that’s the perfect mother and I’m so grateful she decided to take care of her knee so she may live to rip another wicked forehand crosscourt!

I love you, Mom.