A mother's hug. . .

My mother with me on a Florida beach

around 1952 or '53

This morning while walking the hills in my neighborhood, I reflected upon my mother.  She's been gone for some twenty-eight years and I silently wondered what it is that stands out for me the most, now that all this time has passed.  It came warmly and surely - a hug.  

The background:  In the early 70's, I was whisked home to Alabama (along with my pre-school daughter) when my parents discovered I was living and working alone in Florida; my husband had simply walked out.  Keeping that little detail from them was a protection on my part. . .not wanting them to worry, not wanting to burden, not wanting to admit failure. 

But lo and behold, during one of our weekly Sunday phone calls, my father detected something wrong and at his prodding I finally dissolved into tears.  He said "Meet me at the airport in the morning."  Dazed from a sleepless night, with no information as to when or how he was arriving (helicopter? private jet? commercial airline?), I dropped my daughter off at daycare and headed out to the airport, in time to see him strongly striding towards me!  That was my dad.  He quickly booked us into two large suites at a hotel. . .stayed up all night discussing EVERYTHING (with a little gin and tonic on the side), while my daughter slept soundly in the next room.  Two days later my house was put on the market and he drove us home in my car.  He was a man of action and my hero.  

So there I was, in my twenties with a child, at home again - facing the holidays and winter - having no plans for the future.  

 The word bleak comes to mind. 

 I was sad beyond belief - worried sick with how this situation was  going to affect my innocent daughter, and now was spilling over into the lives of my parents!  One day while watching mom at the kitchen sink - me, wordless, utterly ashamed and humbled - I sat on the yellow kitchen stool feeling the weight of an unknown world on my shoulders, feeling so lost.  She dried her hands and walked over, took me in her arms and hugged and rocked me for what seemed like forever.  It was exactly what I needed.  She may have consoled me with soothing words. . .I can't really remember.  But what I do remember is the warmth and love in that hug.  Her heart was breaking for me and my dashed dreams. 

She gave me a hug that I will feel and remember for the rest of my life. 

Is there anything more comforting, more validating than a mother's hug, freely given, when you desperately need it the most?  It's what we women do best - the careful nurturing of wounded hearts and souls.  We soothe and coo with love every day with nary a thought.  It's just what we do.

Such a privilege to be their daughter. . .

My parents with  my maternal grandmother

NYC, Queen Mary