I subtly tell everyone I meet that I've never done a single drug or smoked a cigarette. No, not even weed, not even held it in my mouth... Not because I know drug addicts anymore; thankfully, the last one has been gone for awhile now, and I know there won't be a next.
I do it because of you.
I've asked a lot of women whom I respect as mothers and almost all of them agree that they too have a glass or two to wind down after a long day of mothering. Nothing wrong with that, we all say to each other. Kids are hard. Nonstop adulthood is hard. Relentless responsibilities are hard. It's ok to ease into a break once in awhile.
It's when the easing bottoms out into cliff diving.
I've thought of you quite a bit these last few weeks. It all started on my lonely Mother's Day. I knew that you too were in a quiet room. A place of your own making, so there was no pity. Still, you may have known what day it was. You may have thought of me. You may have remembered.
You and I were not exactly a team, as I consider my girls and I to be. More of an unlikely pair, we made do with each other. And, not all days were bad. When you did show up, I learned to relish the peaks of sunlight. Both flawed and scarred, we managed our own paths. I don't believe you tried to drown me when you lost your footing on that cliff. I believe you loved me with what you had.
We don't talk anymore, mom. But you built me. From the bricks and mortar of trials and more errors than there are numbers for, you prepared me for everything I've found along this path. And, in a lot of ways, you made me the mother I am for the grandchildren you don't know. While I don't look back fondly, I do look back sometimes and see you in a different light.
I hope you let the sun warm your face sometimes. In case you don't, the girls and I walked on this beautiful morning and I felt the warmth for us both.