On Mothers and Mosaics

I love my mom. That's probably not a startling revelation, but I had to say it. I really, really love her. She makes me laugh and she's a contradiction. In fact, it is her contradictions that make me laugh. I should say that to me she is a contradiction, to others she may not be.

One contradiction is her dynamic life packed into a petite package. She is small in physical stature, but monumental in personal force. She dominates the landscape of my childhood. I think her stature in my life is a tribute to the sheer will of her determination to make something of me. Whether that has happened or not is debatable, but at least I exceeded her oft quoted statement, "I think you'll be a garbage collector one day." No doubt as she raised me, she felt that she was banging her head against a stone wall, or wished she was banging my head against a stone wall. Either way, I was frustrating. Probably more than frustrating - exacerbating, incorrigible, intractably entrenched in bone-head land. That was me. And my mother, she was up to the task.

Like two tectonic plates slowly grating on each other, there was the occasional and absolutely necessary release of tension. Both our worlds were rocked by the forces. I dare say that mine was molded into better form. For her, perhaps molded into grey hair, and wizened silence as her boneheaded son plowed headlong into a less yielding world. True to my family heritage, I loved her with intensity, never spoke a word of it to her, God forbid, ever demonstrated it, and at the same time drove her absolutely crazy with frustration. I dub her a Saint just because she didn't kill me. I'm impressed with her moral fortitude to resist the temptation.

Aged now, I tell her I love her, hug her every time I see her and I try to make up for lost time. Part of me is still adolescent. That young man in me cares too deeply what his mother thinks of him, still. Maybe I'm willing to admit what every other man my age really thinks or feels, or maybe I'm just stuck someplace I should have left eons ago. Nonetheless, I couldn't wait to show her the fish. It mattered what she thought, and I was eager.

The response was golden; one of the greatest gifts that I have ever received from her. She was sincerely impressed. I'll treasure it all my life, long after she's gone.

Thank you Mom. I love you!

By the way, for all three of my fans, the cats are completed. I just have to grout them and adhere them to the table top. I'll use grey grout. I'm not too excited about grey, but I think it's my best choice. Pictures are forthcoming.