Plans for Mother's Day

I have no plans for Mother's Day. In my empty nester world, kids have jobs and obligations and are unable to travel the great distances to be with me. It was so much easier when they brought home lopsided pottery with agonizingly written declarations of love and gratitude.

Now, I get flowers or a call. I know; that's the way it should be. They are growing up, getting on with things that need getting on with. It's just that this is a time that makes my obsolescence seem so complete, my last chapter so firmly closed. My husband left, too, for the mountains and his buddies. Makes sense; we don't have any plans.

It's just that, well, we don't have any plans. And I am alone. And I'm not ready for this.

I have promised myself that I will not get out the box with all the lopsided pottery, love notes, and garage sale jewelry from Mother's Days past. I will ride my horse, spend my solitude in the mountains on trails, and look at the future. I will laugh with my girlfriends, empty nesters like myself, and think about snotty noses and dirty diapers and last minute science fair projects and jog-a-thons, things that we don't miss.

But, when the laughter subsides, we will be remembering the sweet smell of our baby's neck, the warmth of a sleeping child in our arms, and the spontaneous (usually living) gifts of love brought from the yard and unwrapped like a gift as our toddler's dirty fingers unfold. We will give thanks for being part of the greatest part of life a woman can be; giving life, raising and loving children, and watching them become what they dreamed. Being a mother.