I always stood by the sea on Fridays and the water always sparkled and danced. My mama held my hand and our bare feet left a trail in the sand and my heart was linked to hers in the way that only mothers and daughters can understand. We used to write notes and hide them in the rocks for people to find, secret words on torn scraps of paper, a magical game. The nights were humid and hot and we ran in the streets just to feel the breeze on our face and I will never forget the way the ocean sparkled beneath the moon or the way my heart shone so brightly in those moments. We stood at the edge of ocean, hands linked, and tossed our message into the sea, sealed in an old wine bottle. We imagined that it would wash up on the shore of a distant land and that the words would be etched upon the heart of some lovely stranger that needed them as much as we did.
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I let the memories dance through my mind and look at myself in the mirror. The curves and angles and skin that covers soul and spirit. The thin scar that marks my body and marks the moment that changed my life forever, the day my daughter was born. The same thin scar that my mother wears on her body from the birth of my brother. I look more like my mother every day. The way my hands look and how the ring I wear on my right hand is the same one my mama wore for my whole life. The long legs and the wild, curly hair. The way I stay up at night and watch the moon and paint on the walls and plant tomatoes. She is part of me and I of her.
There is something lovely that happens when a daughter becomes a mother.
It was incredible how the moment my daughter was born, I loved my mother even more. I’ve always loved my mother wildly, but becoming a mother gave me an understanding of her heart that led me to cherish her more than ever. And maybe living away from home intensifies it all. The way my heart aches for her and the way I love her voice on the phone and the way I cherish the times we talk on Skype. The way the distance of an ocean and thousands of miles only makes me realize how incredibly blessed I am to call her mine. My mama, my best friend, my confidant, the one who understands me like no one else.
Happy Mother’s Day, my beautiful Mama.
Today I celebrate you from across the ocean.
Today I celebrate your free spirit, your kind heart. Your creative soul. Your beautiful smile. I wish I could be with you today, but know that you are with me. You are with me in the way that I wake up early before the sunrise to make coffee and sit on the front balcony. You are with me in the way I scramble eggs and make bacon and toast. You are with me in the way I hold my daughter and kiss her face and memorize her smile the way I saw you do a thousand times with each one of us. You are with me in the way that my heart always leads me back to the beach when I’m afraid and the way the ocean feels when she washes over my toes. You are with me in the way I draw and paint and in the way I love with my whole heart. There are so many parts of me that are a reflection of you, and I carry you with me every day. I am who I am because of you. I was brave enough to move away from home, brave enough to have a daughter, brave enough to learn another language, because I saw that same bravery in you my entire life.
I think of it often. The way my actions, my habits, my choices will shape and mold my sweet Jubilee’s life. The way she will learn to love because of the way I love. Just like I learned from you. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time. And I guess that’s what motherhood is. Beautiful. Terrifying. Brave.
