A Quiet Mother's Day

Mother's Day, 2010: a chilly day at the beach

 

It's Mother's Day.

It's not a day about me, of course. I'm a dad, with a son and a cat, and then whatever collection of people there are who might see me in a fatherly light (I'm not sure any do).

But it's different to sit at home and do stuff. Honestly, I washed the floors, am doing laundry, etc.

Mother's Day -- for one mom or another -- normally meant keeping the calendar open for some event that I'd go to.

Of course, when Mom was still with us, we'd come up with something to do that would make her and the other moms in the family happy.

Later in her life, we started going to Fairfield, where my sister lived and would get us to a beach, regardless of weather. Mom just wanted to be at the beach.

Sometimes, it would be warm enough to put your hands and feet in the Sound. 

Other times, it was cold and we bundled up.

But there was always food -- likely sandwiches that we had picked up -- and the laughter of family. Especially the kids.

With Mom the queen of the gathering as always.

During the pandemic, my sister had us over to her place where we stayed in her yard to (sort of) visit with family, including my great-nephew Carson when he was a newborn.

Today, there's none of that and I'm not complaining. It's just different.

Sean went up to the Hudson Valley to see his mother and he'll be back later.

I'm apartment searching, watching the Yankees, waiting for the Knicks*, and doing house stuff.

And apartment hunting.

There's not really any sadness in any of this. I suppose I'm just babbling.

Happy Mother's Day.

*So, yeah, about the Knicks, yikes. But at least the Yankees won.