Yesterday was Mother’s Day. It was my sister-in-law’s first Mother’s Day with her two-day-old son. That first Mother’s Day; it’s more of a coronation than an annual holiday. Congratulations, Spif.
I wanted to surprise my mother by sneaking over to her house, and laying out some scones for her to have with her morning tea. I woke up early that morning and made Molly Wizenberg’s Scottish Scone’s with Lemon and Ginger, recipe found here. They are simple to make, and incredibly delicious; after eating them you will never have the desire to purchase scones from any franchise coffee shop ever again.
I was in the process of putting the scones out and getting two tea cups for my mother and father when I heard my mother coming down the stairs. This was most unusual, since I think “morning person” would be one of the last ways anyone would describe her. So my breakfast surprise was not exactly as I intended, but this way I got to spend a little of the morning with her. We looked at the pictures I brought, and got a little teary over the poem I printed for her; Day Bath by Debra Spencer.
I spent a quiet Mother’s Day with my boys. We are going to plant strawberries today in the planter they gave me. All day yesterday I thought of the following quote from E.M. Forster from Where Angels Fear to Tread:
"For a wonderful physical tie binds the parents to the children; and--by some sad, strange irony--it does not bind us children to our parents. For if it did, if we could answer their love not with gratitude but with equal love, life would lose much of its pathos and much of its squalor, and we might be wonderfully happy."
I don’t know if it is possible to answer our parents’ love with equal love. I know that I selfishly hope it is.