The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Sunday, May 10, 2009

My Mother's Day Gift: A Day Early

I got my Mother's Day gift a day early this year. But, unlike most Mother's Day gifts, I didn't buy it. I didn't even, truth be told, the mother's day gift wasn't from me to my mother, but just the opposite.

My mom gave me something very special.

We sat down and talked for about 45 minutes about a lot of different subjects. It was quite a heartfelt talk that seemed more like two friends than a mother-son talk. My mother and I rarely get occasions to sit down and talk like this. There is always something going on, something that needs to be done, or someone else in the room. So even though I knew that I needed to go pick Dad back up at the shop, I sat there soaking in the conversation.

We began to talk about Mother's day, presents, and mother's days from the past. Mom told me that as far as she is concerned, everyday has been Mother's Day because of the way my sister and I have turned out. She said that she never remembers a lot of problems with me and Brittany while we were growing up. Then she looked up at me and asked me if that was true.

I told her that I don't remember a lot of trouble. Mom told me that sometimes she forgets things that have happened a long time okay. She called it editing. I told her that I firmly believe that the past is the only thing we truly have control over. We can edit our past. We can over emphasize something that we like and under emphasize something that we don't like. Or we can just forget the whole matter.

We talked about relatives long, long gone. And mom let me into little secrets that as a child I never knew. Though, whenever she revealed something to me, I quickly answered "I know." My answers surprised me. The words coming out of my mouth before the realizations could make it from my subconscious. But they didn't seem to surprise my mom.

When we began to talk about faith and the lack of faith, I could see my mother's eyes begin to wet. We sat there for a second, the emotion sitting in the room like a fog. The fog began to clear when we heard the downstairs door slam. It was my father, he had waited up at the shop long enough and had walked home. He asked what was going on and we said that we had just been talking. He asked about what and we tried to explain our topics. Dad looked at us sort of puzzled.

I guess he was puzzled because it wasn't so much a conversation as it was a gift. It was a gift of spending time with each other. A gift we don't give or receive enough, but should. And maybe then, mother's days, father's days, and birthdays would be more of a year round occasion.


Blogger Sherry said...

Dear Josh,
What a wonderful gift our time was and also the blog! I also could feel our hearts in tune. I love you so much and you have given me so much pleasure throughout the years. From the moment you were born my life was gratified tenfold. I am not sure I thanked you for the picture--I love it and it is exactly what I wanted.
Love Mom

7:39 PM  

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