Mother

Oh what i would not give to sit beside you for a while.

I would sit silently and hear the love story of your love for my father. I would listen intently to how you only have one love.

Oh how I would not let my mind wander as I sat beside you as you spoke of the dreams you had as a youth.

I would hang on your every word as you sat there stirring your tea. I would cherish that moment. I would try and freeze it in time.

You would be full of life. you would laugh and talk about how you had such big dreams, the two of you. You knew youwould love each other until the end of time.

Oh mother what I wouldn’t give to sit beside you for awhile

Diane Johnston

The truth is my mother worked very hard and took care of us kids very well. She never took a day off of work, or called in sick. She taught me so much as a young lady. So many concepts that are so important. The writing above is called “Mother,” subtitled Another Day. I found the courage to write this because, she has passed on. My mother never wanted praise for the things she did for us. She did them out of love. There were times we took that love for granted. Maybe she cooked a dinner for the family, even though she was tired and her back hurt. If I had another day, I would stand beside her as she cooked our meal. Drinking in the memory of every spice. Every taste. Every moment. Thank her for her dedication to us girls her husband and our crazy animals. What I wouldn’t give to listen to pearls of wisdom, preventing me from a broken heart. I would have paid such attention to how she took such care. My mother used to tell me “Diane, if you spend so much time looking at the past, you are going to trip right over your future.” Sounds like this is just ramblings unnecessarily, I know that. However, I have held onto this gem and pulled it out of its hiding place so many times. We as people like to lament on our past. On our deep regrets. Especially, when we have hurt those we have loved. Apologize, and move forward. That was her thing always move forward. The past doesn’t have to define you. I have had an incredibly tumultuous past. My mother said that “Eeyore doesnt live in her home, poor me moved out as well.” I learned a valuable lesson in that. I can be the woman my mother raised me to be I can show my scars proudly. Like badges of honor. I can wear my pain from the past like the blue ribbon on the fat hog at the fair. If I allowed my past to continue to hold me as a victim, that is a prison, I build myself. I can choose to imprison myself in regret and fear and self doubt. Or I can choose to embrace the future. The path is clear and unhindered from my tripping over the past. I love my mother for this lesson, it has made me strong and I am not an inmate in the victims prison. I walk freely, I show my scars. I also show my joy, my happiness my compassion and love for others. Who knows maybe the fact that I wear my scars proudly may help someone else wears theirs as well.

Diane Johnston