Seven things to ask mom before it’s too late

Seven things to ask mom before it’s too late
                        

My daughter Selena sent me an Instagram Reel last evening around 8:30. It was titled “7 things to ask your mom before it’s too late,” and I really wasn’t prepared. It feels like I’ve just said goodbye to my own mom and dad, using their things in my daily life, sometimes wishing they could see something I’ve accomplished like finishing my novel. I wish I’d asked them questions and written them down.

My own mortality has been sitting in front of my face lately. I become bored with goals I’ve set for myself and have begun to question just what is it I need to accomplish in this life. Or is rocking on the porch with a sleepy baby enough?

What makes me happy is assembling small casseroles with fresh summer produce, gazing at the hydrangea bush in wonder — it’s lush, fat blooms hungry for the dewy air — sitting down in a darkened theater and watching a highly anticipated blockbuster, and applying glowy bronzer over my tanned face.

I will answer these questions for you, my girl, because no one really asks them of me. I’m usually doing things for others, and when someone asks me a question, I stumble, unsure if my response means anything. I want to never feel guilty for sharing how I felt, instead of thinking I just had to get through it, because that’s what women do. We get through things.

What’s your happiest memory of us?

The early years of chubby baby faces is becoming hazy, but some of the happiest memories are sitting on a blanket nest we made on the floor. VHS movies were stacked and ready to watch, and we snuggled down deeper into the coziness. You three were right where I could reach out and touch you, control your safety, feel you beside me like the older years wouldn’t be.

What was the first year of motherhood like for you?

I was ready to be a mom, and when Esabelle arrived, it felt like floating. She was a good sleeper and slept well after one month. I remember rocking in the willow rocking chair someone had gotten us for our wedding. I rocked her into the night and watched her grow relentlessly, my own fears allayed by her smiling face. I never questioned my ability to mother and did everything for her because that’s how it was then. We didn’t have social media, and sometimes mothering was lonely.

Is there anything about our family’s history you’ve kept a secret?

Yes, and it will remain locked away until you find it in my hidden journals when I’m gone.

What is the nicest thing I’ve ever done for you?

I’ve never had a surprise party or getaway (that I haven’t planned), and I’ve never felt very celebrated. When you were living on and off at home, Selena, amidst your European travels, you always encouraged me to do bigger things and told me my talents were way bigger than I believed. You really believed it and shared that with me. For the first in my life, I believed it too.

What do you want
or wish most for
your kids

To be secure, truly happy, to not settle for less than they deserve, and to not ever have to know what it’s like to choose between paying the electric bill or buying food.

What have been the best and worst parts about getting older?

The worst part of getting older is realizing why your parents always sighed and groaned as they did normal daily things. I understand now, Mom. I also bristle when anyone makes me feel old because I asked a tech question. I could Google it and find out, but you’re here and can maybe answer it for me. But the best part is knowing you’ve done what needs done. I’ve raised my kids and am ready to travel or simply stare into the backyard with coffee in hand. It’s a feeling of lightness, tinged with what’s to come, that you can’t describe until you’re here.

What’s one thing you always want me to remember after you’re gone?

I would hope you saw me not as a mom who did everything for you, but one who set you free to be yourselves — that maybe I gave you some of your coolness too and was more than my Toll House Marble squares. Remember me for my relentless love of words, movies, Mexico, books, and the torturous trail of travel and adventure I always wanted to be on.

Melissa Herrera is a columnist, published author and drinker of too many coffees based in Holmes County. You can find her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives or buy one from her in person (because all authors have boxes of their own novel). For inquiries or to purchase, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.


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