My mom and I just spent ten days together at my parents’ house in Florida. We didn’t go anyplace and we didn’t do much. What I most loved about our time was that it was so quiet, so spacious, and so much our own. Introverts by nature, my mother and I have this in common – we are connoiseurs of companionable silence. We like to relax into our own rhythms, side by side but with plenty of breathing room between us.
She brought me coffee in the mornings. I made us healthy salads for dinner, except for the night we ordered a pizza to share in bed while watching TV. Most afternoons she took a nap and I swam naked in the pool. We read a lot. And in the evenings we got into our pajamas before the sun went down and then stayed up till after midnight, catching up on the last three seasons of Mad Men.
I didn’t blow dry my hair or put on lipstick for a week. There is something to be said for letting things slide. It wasn’t at all exciting, but it was what we each needed — time to hang out, time to read and write and think and be. There was no one to cook for or take care of, no one to worry about or sleep with. A perfect mother-daughter vacation.
At seventy-eight, my mom is moving more slowly, more cautiously than she used to. She’s not a great fan of the cane she needs for walking distances but it’s better than the alternative, better than risking a fall. She has dizzy spells and she can’t always trust her balance. She tires more easily. So, she paces herself. And when we run out of avocados or half and half, she lets me drive to the grocery store rather than insisting on going herself.
I’m moving a bit more slowly these days, too. It’s been nearly six months since my orthopedist pointed to a narrow, shadowy place on the x-ray of my hip and showed me why it hurts so much to walk up the stairs: bone on bone. I guess I’ve just needed this time to get used to the idea of a surgeon replacing my own worn-out hip joint with some new parts. It wasn’t so long ago that I was out running. Just last spring, I still thought I’d simply pulled a muscle and would be back to doing pigeon pose any day now. In September I walked 26 miles in one day without pain and believed I was finally “over it.” But really, all I’d done was take enough ibuprofen to quiet the inflammation for a few hours.
By now, I’ve grown accustomed to taking smaller steps, to the popping sound when I shift in my chair, to the nagging ache in my groin as I lie in bed at night. But I can’t say I’m used to it. This is not the “me” I believe myself to be – and so I keep being surprised to find myself hurting, hesitating to bend over to pick my socks up off the floor, easing myself into the driver’s seat of the car in slow motion.
“I never thought I’d feel this way at fifty-six!” I said to my mom, a bit of petulance creeping into my voice.
“Well I never thought I’d feel this way ever,” she replied, without the slightest trace of self-pity. “But I can’t complain. Life is so good. The only thing I can’t get used to is the idea that there’s not going to be much more of it. I can hardly believe Dad and I are reaching the end. I hate to think of all I’m going to miss when I’m gone.”
I know exactly what she means.
My writing’s been interrupted this morning by phone calls from both my sons. Jack sent me his resume to proof read. He’s got projects to finish as the school year winds down, internships to apply for, a job he’s hoping to have a crack at. Henry checked in on his lunch break, calling from Louisville en route to Ohio. He’s got three more weeks on tour and playing in a different city every night is still a thrill for him.
Nothing makes me happier than hearing from my children. As Barbara Kingsolver writes, “Kids don’t stay with you if you do it right. It’s the one job where, the better you are, the more surely you won’t be needed in the long run.” True enough. But every text lifts my heart a little and a phone call just to say “hi” is even better. I love knowing simply from the tone of a voice that, for today anyway, all is well.
And I can’t imagine missing any of it, either. I can’t wait to see where my sons’ careers will take them, who they’ll meet and fall in love with, where they will land, whether they, too, will become parents. Someday, I want to hold a grandchild in my arms. And it goes without saying: I’ll want to be around to see that child grow up.
My own parents recently sold the home where my brother and I were raised. They’re building a small retirement cottage on a pond just a couple of miles from our house – close by, so we can go back and forth as many times a day as we wish. Or, as many times a day as we need to. No one’s really talking about it, but we know the chapter we’re in now will come to a close. The family plot-line is bound to become more complicated. Does anyone survive their eighties without some kind of surprise or setback?
In the meantime, I feel blessed to have my parents nearby. For the truth is, time is having its way with all of us. As my sons make their way into adult lives of their own, I have no choice but to confront the evidence of my own encroaching old age. Bodies break down and hair turns gray and minds aren’t quite as sharp as they were. My husband Steve, nine years older than I am, endures a creaky knee without complaint. He buys a senior ticket at the movie theater and then adjusts his hearing aids to be in synch with the sound system. (At least, since he got them, our dinner table conversation has grown softer, easier, more intimate.) I dab concealer under my eyes and try to ignore the wrinkles deepening at the corners of my mouth. My mom just laughs when I confess how much I spend on a jar of face cream. She knows there’s no stopping the vicissitudes of time.
For now, though, minor aches and pains aside, we are all fine. And this mere fact of life itself, of human resilience and fortitude, is mysterious and gratifying enough. We have each other. We take care of each other. We show up for each other. The days are good, and the loving and the caring flow both ways.
And here’s the best thing: I’m a mother, yes, but that’s only half of it. When I need to, I can still just be a daughter, too. There is nothing lovelier or more precious to me right now than this. I am allowed, for a while longer, to inhabit both of these roles at once. And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful.
Mother’s Day is around the corner. If you’re lucky enough to still have your mother, or if there’s a woman in your life who has ever offered you a kind maternal hand, I hope you’ll let her know how grateful you are. Mother’s Day is the perfect time to forgive your mom for being flawed and to celebrate her for being human. We may have trouble putting our love and our gratitude into words, but actions speak for themselves. (So do something nice!)
This year, in honor of Mother’s Day, I’m offering personalized, signed, gift-wrapped copies of all of my books at special discounted rates. Details below.
books!
signed, sealed, delivered, they’re yours
–- in time for mother’s day
Want to order a signed book (or several) for the special moms in your life? It’s easy! Here’s how:
1. Click here.
(Note: This link will brings you to my own landing page on my husband’s website, Steven Lewers & Associates. Steve sells beautiful posters, note cards, and laminated nature identification guides. And because his business is all set up to take online orders and fulfill them quickly, he’s kindly offered to handle this special sale for me. While you’re there, feel free to browse his offerings, too!)
2. Want your book(s) personalized for a special person? Send me an email at klewers@tds.net. Include the book title, the name for the inscription, and any special message you’d like me to write.
3. If I don’t hear from you via email, I’ll simply sign your book(s), gift-wrap them, and have them sent to the address specified.
4. For Mother’s Day only, I’m offering a special price that includes free gift-wrap.
5. Hurry! Deadline for all orders is May 1!
Lovely thoughts as always, Katrina. It made me wax nostalgic for such days with my own mother. I lost her too soon seven years ago, and I will always miss her. Sometimes I hold her recipe cards in my hands and can summon her face, but what I treasure most were those quiet moments of deep friendship that you write of. How blessed you both are to appreciate every one.
You captured so much about both relationships–as a daughter and as a mother. This made me reflect on my mom’s Florida visits to her mother when she was still with us, my own reasons for having moved to Amherst, where my parents still live in the house where I grew up, and how much I love hearing from my own two, whether it’s from down the hall or their days at their dad’s house. A cancer scare, a chronic illness, someone I love so dearly enduring terrible physical pain–and through all of it, life is so good. Because we are all (still) here.
p.s. swimming naked is the best.
I too am blessed to have my soon to be 77 year old Mom close by. I am keenly aware of how truly lucky I am. She is still a major source of guidance, wisdom, and unconditional love. I know I depend on her. I cannot imagine this world without her in it. Many of my parents friends have passed. They to are painfully aware of their mortality. My mother recently commented that she “can feel death scratching at their backs!” She is a four time cancer survivor! She is almost six years cancer free! My mother in law passed away this past October at the young age of 78. She fought 16 months for more time on this earth! The doctors had given her 6 weeks to live, but with the love of a great husband, and determination she got another”ride around the block.” One more everything to celebrate, anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, and ” The Gift of every Ordinary Day”! We miss her. Blessings on this magical journey indeed!
I’m glad I waited until today to read your post. It is my middle son’s 21st birthday and I am filled with gratitude that I have this special young man in my life. All three young adults are my joy, and I am so excited to watch them make their way in the world.
I sat here at my office desk and cried upon reading this. Just last night, my ten-year-old finally admitted there is no Santa. She laughed as she said, “You LIED to me for ten years…” vowing to tell her own kids the truth. My mother just turned 70, and she lives simply too far away. I hope to spend many many more moments with these two incredibly beautiful, important women in my life. Thank you for your words. I find you an inspiration and kindred spirit.
I love the image of you and your mother sharing a companionable silence. Makes me smile!
I feel my 56 years most after a session of yard work. Have to pace myself in the garden these days, and accept all the aches and pains that appear afterwards. I dislike hearing your hip is troubling you…
Delighted your parents are moving near you. What wonderful news!
Love this: “And here’s the best thing: I’m a mother, yes, but that’s only half of it. When I need to, I can still just be a daughter, too. There is nothing lovelier or more precious to me right now than this. I am allowed, for a while longer, to inhabit both of these roles at once. And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful.”
Not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for you, my friend. Thank you for all you share. xoxo
I’m lucky to be your son! Feel grateful to have your guidance, wisdom and love as I make my way down life’s path.
Henry, so glad you took the time to share with your Momma:)
Mother’s Day… I both love and dread Mother’s Day. This year it will be 5years since my mother passed away. She was a month shy of 81yrs old and I had flown out to visit her in Kansas only two weeks before she passed away. I had spent the last 5years, after my dad died, talking to her every day on the phone. There isn’t a day that doesn’t go by, that I don’t think of her. She would love to know how much my kids have grown up, that they are young adults now moving forward with their lives. Bittersweet for me, my son will be moving to Boston, about six or Sven hours away. My daughter, age 26, still lives at home. She has inherited her grandmother’s love of baking. Every time she bakes and decorates a cake for someone, I see my mother’s joy and artistic nature coming through. I think Mom would have been so very proud as I am.
LOVE that Henry posted! I have some idea, as the mother of adult children, how much that means. Also…am having both hips ‘done’ next week. It happens. The good news is that it’s fixable (as are so many other age-related ailments)….I have thought about our grandparents’ generation and those before, often housebound for years, whereas you and I and will be off and running again, or at least gardening and picking up our own socks! Another occasion for gratitude.
I love reading your blog. I also have two sons (mine are 18 and 23), my husband is ten years older than me and I too moved us all to live in a place that I love. When my father was eighty three he came to live with us in Italy. Now eighty eight he pottered out this morning with hat and trowel to transplant wild orchids from the field below us “I wouldn’t normally move them but they will be ploughing soon and I don’t want them to be lost”. You will be grateful every day that your parents are nearby, it is wonderful (and at times challenging) for everyone.
I loved this…and the Kingsolver line is something that I remember my pediatrician telling me long ago. It’s only now, when my daughter has moved away and loves her college life, that I really feel the sting of its truth.
I discovered your blog by chance. Though 10,000 miles away in sunny Penang, Malaysia, I love your articles. Just like you, my wife and I are Introverts by nature. Oh yes “we are connoisseurs of companionable silence. We like to relax into our own rhythms, side by side but with plenty of breathing room between us.”
Blessed Mother’s Day!
cheers,
Happy Mother’s/Daughter’s Day, dear Ms. Kenison! It makes my heart sing to read your posts. Thank you for sharing your words and your heart.
Hi Katrina…I have been thinking of you ever since you left a comment to say that you neeed a hip replacement. I had to read it twice to make sure I had the right Katrina..the spry, active, yoga loving Katrina that I pick up in the words you share. I feel your pain and frustration but am happy to read that a solution is at hand. A beautiful post as always and a lovely tribute to your mother who sounds like a wonderful woman. I am guessing the pond you mentioned is CP? You must be very excited at the prospect of having your parents close by. And lastly, there are always a few words that I hold onto in your posts and these made my heart skip a beat…“Kids don’t stay with you if you do it right. It’s the one job where, the better you are, the more surely you won’t be needed in the long run.” Wise, wise Barbara Kingsolver. I often feel at a loss with my children being spread wide and far, not needing me as much as they once did. I am going to take it that like you, I have done a pretty good job so far. Smiling in Saigon and wishing you well as you prepare for your surgery. Jeanne xx
Katrina, your words always make me feel so wonderful. All the words of your mom at 78 are my words also. I am 78 with all the same concerns and health issues as her. I also had a hip replacement 4 yrs ago but for a different reason. I was on a cruise with my sisters trying to celebrate our one and only brothers pending journey to heaven when I slipped and fell on my hip, fracturing it. the whole trip to an island hospital for screws to stabilize it and ensuing trip home for the surgery was an adventure in itself. my hip works just fine now. If that’s your path, find a good doctor and you’ll be fine in no time. That whole cruise was an adventure I didn’t anticipate but one I enjoyed more than expected. there’s no better place to be in the hospital than a tropical island. My children are in your position in the middle of their children’s lives and mine as their mom. I live near one daughter and two sons with two more daughters on the west coast. I am really blest to be in their lives. I love reading your books and thoughts…sally p
this cruise was our brothers idea but his health failed too soon. he died a week after we all returned. he wanted us all to go without him and enjoy it for his sake. which we did reluctantly.
Thanks for this reflective and wise piece Katrina. I really related to your experience.
I really enjoyed this post. It was really meaningful the way you describe the changes we go through in our lives. Although I am in a different season of life then you, I can understand the surprises that come along because I have been surprised by the changes in my own life and I only just turned 30 this last year. I really like your perspective and agree that we should enjoy what we have and the time we have and not fill our lives with regret. Thanks for sharing such a meaningful article about your relationship with your mom. It has inspired me to write about my relationship with my mom as well.
This is so lovely. Your weaving of then and now, inevitabilities laced with petulance, gorgeous.
Thank you for cracking this door and reminding me of the roles we play and the tides that pull.
I went searching for your blog today to see what you had recently written. Your words always make me feel better. We are in a similar place in life and I can always relate to the things you write about. My mom lives a mile from me and I’m thankful everyday that she’s near. We celebrated Mother’s Day this year watching my oldest daughter graduate from college. It was a perfect day. I now adjust to her starting her life far from home and can relate totally to what you said about the phone calls and texts. The time you spent with your mother sounds perfect. As always thanks for sharing.