Time is fleeting, as I have experienced in the 5 and half decades I have lived on this planet (in this incarnation at least). Some of those I love are no longer in body, but the connection is inicstricably enmeshed in my bone marrow. As Mothers’ Day is approaching, I am paying closer attention to thoughts about my mother Selma who passed in 2010, when she joined my father on the Other Side. Even though I achingly miss her physical presence at times, I feel her so strongly around me. She’s the one who I call on for the same kind of guidance I sought throughout my life. Stable, reliable, incredibly wise. She too had ‘imposter syndrome’, since she never saw herself as the confident go-getter, make stuff happen kind of woman that she truly was. Perceiving herself as shy, she hid it well. She seemed to be the go-to person in the neighborhood, the one who the kids could talk to. We had a ‘helping hand’ sign in our front window, indicating that ours was a ‘safe house’ for them to go to if they were being followed by strangers or bothered by bullies.
As I age (well and gracefully, I hope), I find myself looking and sounding like her; saying things she would have said. I have the same mannerisms and sometimes step back and see myself AS her. I have been noticing lately how much my hands are starting to look like my mother’s hands. The skin feels thinner and more translucent. Wonder if it’s all that transparency I am experiencing. Mirror mirror on the wall….I am my mother after all. This ‘glamour girl’ shot was taken when she was 18, I think. Such a long time and such a short way from there (1942) to here. Gone in a flash.
This morning, I was listening to my favorite radio station (WXPN) while heading to work. Songs were being played in honor of Mothers’ Day. Tears streamed down my face as I heard a piece by Philly local singer songwriter Andrew Lipke. In it, he highlights the importance of acknowledging the passage of time so that we don’t waste a precious moment with those who so enrich our lives.