How to Celebrate Mother’s Day, part two

1.
The time I fell off my bike at 6 and skinned my neck and chin raw on the sidewalk. And she held me as close as she could until I fell asleep.

2.
At 19, I taught myself to skate again, doing laps at a local rink. And I was slowly skating backwards, hip checking all the miles I’d done on pavement, when I nearly toppled. Righting myself, breathing hard, I turned around and saw her, standing with her elbows on the boards. And she was smiling. Not because I’d fallen; this wasn’t a pratfall guffaw. No, it was pride. And I’ll REMEMBER that grin until the day I die.

3.
Because she worked full-time and raised three kids and kept house because ALL of that was somehow her responsibility. That her resentment was a nasty dog she kept leashed, most of the time.

4.
That she put up with the bulk-bin peanut brittle. Oh, wait, first we burnt toast for her...

5.
When she let us raid our uncle’s stash of old Playboys at the cabin, curious about all the naked women. And didn’t say a damn thing, just put the magazines back in the cupboard when we were done.

6.
That she didn’t just get up and leave when all THREE of us spilled our milk during a single meal. Any number of times during our long adolescence.

7.
Because she sang You Are My Sunshine while she wiggled the loose tooth in my jaw, my head in her lap. She sang it like sunshine, like sugar, like love, put into words.