It's Mother's Day evening, May 13, though outside today it has felt much more like summer. (Psstttt! I don't like summer.) I just came in from the porch and the heaviness has lifted a little. It's bearable at least - for this Fall-Winter-Spring person. As I was sitting on the swing, I realized that I heard nothing but traffic going by. It was kind of deafening. I think my favorite outdoor sound in the summer is the wonderful cacophony of kids playing, like that old Neil Diamond song, "A Beautiful Noise". Don't know it? Look it up.
Anyway, in the absence of that kind of noise, I just sat there thinking - about the days when I/we were
young and we were the ones making those joyous summer day and summer evening noises. Growing up, we were fortunate to live in an out-of-the-way neighborhood where there wasn't any through-traffic. We rode our bikes without a care and didn't even check in a lot with home. We went in and out of the neighbor kids' homes like they were our own, as long as they were with us and we felt such slow, relaxed freedom. Smile. I liked Summer then.
During the days, when we weren't at the swimming pool, we played GAMES. Try explaining that
to today's kids. We played Indian ball and tag. We had lemonade stands and were excited if we
made 63 cents. In the evenings we caught lightening bugs in jars - with holes in the lids. And then we'd let them go before we went inside for the night.
As we got a little older, as summer evenings turned from light to gray, my sister Charmaine, Mary Ann Woolcott and I would stand under the streetlight at the head of the street - just a few yards from our home. Her parents could see her from their back door and ours could see us from our front door.
Other neighborhood kids would join us for a while and then mosey on. But we'd stay, discussing
things that just had to be discussed RIGHT then. Every once in a while, Mary Ann's mom or dad would flip the porch light on and off. And every once in a while, mother would call to us to "cut it short; it's getting late." But we'd "push the envelope" for a while, just hating to say goodnight, hating to give in to the enveloping darkness, using that wonderful old streetlight as our beloved gathering place.
I miss that old streetlight. Don't you? Because, in one way or another, I know you had it too. Those
wonderful, slow, slow days and nights.....the summers of our youth. Every once in a while, a sound,
a smell, a song - will bring it all back for just a fleeting second.
And something else I miss so much is the sound of my mother's voice, calling us home for the night.
My female friends, I'm hoping, as we close out this Mother's Day, that this day has been a lovely one for you. As our pastor pointed out this morning, it doesn't matter if you have borne children or if you have mothered other people's children. It doesn't matter if you are a mother of fur babies. A mama, a grandma, an aunt, a dear friend......women everywhere "mother" in some way. It's what we do.
I will "cut this short" this evening. "It's getting late". :) But Happy Mother's Day to all of my female
readers. Mothering is not an easy effort. It takes determination and endurance and tears and laughter. It takes great strength. I am reminded of the popular slogan we have all read. 'Here's to strong women. May we be them. May we know them. May we raise them.'
I believe I will close out the evening with a walk around the yard and a few more moments on the
porch. I'd better do it while I can. Have I mentioned that Summer is coming? (I really don't like
Summer.) :)
