The Mom Spot, we all have one.
It’s a gape, a wound, a wanting. It’s tender or torn, full or faltering, powerful or perilous. The place where a mother is, or was, or should be.
As we approach the occasion that seems to stir sentiment and sadness in equal measure — Mother’s Day — the maternal role is a touchy issue, especially if you’re a daughter. The mother-daughter dynamic is fraught. Something about ties that bind, choke, reflect and reframe.
But, wait, you don’t have mother issues? You live among sunshine and rainbows? Good for you (but I don’t believe it). I love my mother, of course, but motherly love is rarely uncomplicated.
Years ago, in a writing workshop we were assigned a routine writing prompt. I don’t recall the assignment but I remember the results; in a room full of 10 women of various ages and backgrounds every one of us had written about our mother! The instructor rolled her eyes, sighed, and said, “Oh, the mother load.”
Pity the mothers, their wishes and wounds. Pity the daughters, the deep love and festering frustration. We are born and formed by our mothers — the presence of, the absence of. Even three years after my mother’s death, I’m still weighing who she was and who I am as a result. Every passing year, I see her with fresh eyes (and sometimes with a more generous heart).
The mother-daughter tangle can last a moment, a day, a lifetime. And yet, we love, deeply and fiercely. Still, again, and anyway.
A Few of My Favorite Mom Poems:
When I Am Asked by Lisel Mueller
Mothers by Nikki Giovanni
The Persistence of Scent by Cindy Williams Gutierrez
This Is Not A Small Voice by Sonia Sanchez
Just Before Death Comes by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer