I’m not sure I’m qualified to write about Mother’s Day anymore.
I don’t really celebrate it. Not since my mother left us. It’s not that I don’t think about her — quite the opposite. I spent a lot of time with her in those last couple of years, and because of that there are still places I don’t go, things I don’t do. Mother’s Day, for me, has gotten quieter though no less sentimental…
I tend to mark it in small ways. A cone of butter pecan. A pecan waffle. Maybe a box of ice cream sandwiches. You may detect a theme. My mother liked to eat. She especially liked ice cream.
I know, of course, that a cone of butter pecan isn’t her. It doesn’t contain anything of her. It’s just ice cream. But food — and smell — have a way of closing distance. They bring us back to places we didn’t plan to visit and people we didn’t expect to see quite so clearly.
My mother was the cook in our family. So when I think about a salmon patty, or spaghetti, meatballs or even a piece of toast with raspberry jam cut into four small squares, she’s there. Not in any grand way. Just present enough to notice.
And so on Mother’s Day, I eat. And I remember.
Mother’s Day doesn’t have to look one particular way. If your mother is with you, take the time. Sit down. Eat something good. Pay attention. If she’s not, then maybe you find your own way to mark it — something small, something that brings her close again, even if only for a minute.
Of course, it isn’t only food that does this. Smell may be the stronger spell. A flower garden, a certain soap, coffee in the morning, rain on warm pavement — any of it can open a door you didn’t know you were standing beside.
But food has its own special place in memory because we so often share it. Breaking bread matters because it is never just bread. It is time, attention, nourishment, and company all gathered at the same table.
So however Mother’s Day looks for you, we hope you find a way to honor it gently. If your mother is with you, love on her. Make the memory stronger while you can. If she isn’t, maybe there’s still a way to bring her close — a flavor, a flower, a habit, a small ritual that belonged to the two of you.
And if part of that day calls for a table, we’ll be here.
Love on your mama — with your arms or with your heart, and both where possible.