Mother’s Day

The angled cut of her white curles told of changing texture and managability. The looseness of her cheeks as she studied her reading with serious lips of concentration expressed more gravity than before. Her glasses made her brown eyes larger showing flecks of more hazel than brown. When she looked up from her reading, I saw a contentness-to-be in the moment.

As we drove back from church along the river, we noticed women of all ages out on the house porches and balconies or making their way to the bank to absorb the bright, cheerful, warm sunshine of the Sunday afternoon.

“Oh! What a glorious day!” she cheered.

“Memere. Look at that house there!” shouted Jay from the back seat.

“How wonderful!” she responded. “It’s very big!”

Reminiscent of the long-ago Sunday drives through the neighborhoods of big houses and big yards, green grass and beautiful lawn furniture I enjoyed as a young girl, the oohs and ahhs of another generation could be heard. While Sam slept because the winding of the road was making him woozy, we continued our ooohs and ahhhs, enjoying the designs and expressions of creativity of your own property. Years ago, the same conversation could be heard as I thought about the generations in the car. My boys, her grandsons, miles and miles apart came together to continue strenthening the connection of historical significance that each family strives for itself.

“Weee-eee–eee!” cheered Lou as we sloped over each hill and bump. I felt huge satisfaction as I listened to his expressions of happiness and his participation meant three generations made a stronger conn. We felt as though the miles didn’t make the distance in daily living so vast. We were enjoying each other’s company.

Flashing Memories

He did it. He made the face that sparks of orneriness and playful obstinance. He made the “O” face, as if to say, “Uh-oh, I’ve been caught so I need to play it up with the hope that no one will be mad”.

I haven’t seen that facial expression in almost four years. Then, he pushed himself back from the table using his feet. He’s ready to go. He wants to move on his own with incredible impact. Any attention he recieves, he smiles with great approval. He’s sensitive now. Traumatic Brain Injuries can feel euphoria and tears in the same moment depending upon what is happening around them and the individual’s support system.

My Lucho is lucky to have his family close at hand to assist him with what he is attempting. Although nonverbal and primarily gestural when he wants something, sign language may become a stronger form of communication for him. His consistent drive to move toward independence reminds me of how strong we need to be when our heart leads us toward our desires. He reminds me to persist and will my actions toward improvement and happiness.

Lovingly

Sincerity, simplicity and direct words are prized when you speak to me about love. While the words are sparely used, their direct effect causes my heart to sing. I want to hear more.

Speak to me in words that make me happy to be; happy to serve day and night, picking up socks, following after to keep the food fresh as I return to the fridge what you’ve taken out.

Speak to me simply saying how much you care; how important I am, how magnificent we are; and how wonderfully proud to have our children.

Speak to me softly, whisper in my ear how significant my actions help you, make you grow, and feel valued.

Speak to me respectfully, supporting my words by acknowledging my intelligent thoughts and analysis’ about our projects and plans.

Value me above all others, showing me through your actions and words each day that I make a difference to you.

Show me you care

Lovingly.

 

via Daily Prompt: Lovingly