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Mother’s Day in heaven

Taking a quick break from dancing around the kitchen to Michel Bublé – “All I do the whole night through/ is think of you” – to report on this heavenly Mother’s day. The birds are chirping frantically in disbelief, the plants are busting out, the trees are thick with green. I’ve called my beloved mother, and my beloved daughter has called me. My son has invited his sister and me to have dinner tonight at the restaurant where he works. I will walk there through the sunny dusk of Toronto’s first real spring day. Even the crabby cat has ventured out to quiver in the direction of the birds at the feeder, before fleeing back to her favourite chair.

I got out the garden furniture, musty after its long hibernation; it’s airing out at the back of the yard, where I spent an hour this morning in silence broken only by birdsong, drinking coffee and reading the paper. Even the thought of Stephen Harper and his minions cannot destroy my joyful mood.
Or the thought of Paul McCartney. My dear Margaret, who keeps assiduous track of this man for me, called to tell me she’s sorry he is marrying someone other than me for the third time. I checked on-line – yes, he has announced his engagement. He looks a bit odd in the picture, I’m sorry to say, with his rich brown hair – but she looks like a lovely woman and I wish him the greatest happiness.
My friends, I do not want to marry him. My love is not for the real man with dirty socks and, I’m sure, many needs. My love is for the musician who has given us countless hours of pleasure, and for the fantasy of perfect love he provided during my lonely years. I love him greatly for these things. But I do not want to scramble his eggs. My guess is that Nancy has someone to scramble them for him, in any case, just the way he likes them.
To all my dearest family and friends, to all my students and blog readers who are mothers – and why not, fathers too – I wish you a wonderful day celebrating the biggest, most demanding, most rewarding love possible.
Michel sings on: “I just haven’t met you yet.”



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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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