The Magic was Your Mother

You’re scrolling social media, absentmindedly searching for…something. Perhaps you are looking for holiday gift inspiration, comedy to take the edge off, or Elf on the Shelf scenes as you have simply run dry on creativity. You halt your thumb from the swipe when you come across a meme:

Suddenly, you feel so seen and also…triggered? Because perhaps this is a new reality that snuck into your life insidiously. It came without fanfare or announcement, warning or news. It just sort of…happened… to you. You are now the magic that is the holiday season. A season that seems to elongate with each passing year, now beginning in early October with the required fall decorations and carnivals.

“Hmm.” You shrug your shoulders and scroll on. The next post:

These words may catch you off guard, causing a small lump to form in your throat, or a tiny tear in the corner of your eye. You begin to think about your own mother, your childhood memories of this time of year. Did you say enough when she brought home a coveted toy from the next town over after working a 12-hour nursing shift? You don’t think so.

Feeling triggered transitions to feeling regret. A softening of heart as you begin to think of all the women you encounter in your life, and what could be going through their minds this time of year. Maybe a little shame that you forgot to hold the door open for the mom behind you at daycare as you whisked your kids off to the next event. You see her later, floating through your dreams, the woman who is striving to complete the day to day and also create magic hidden in the little pockets of time amidst chaos.

She is the homeroom parent sending out sign up genius lists, asking for donations for the class holiday party.

She is your cashier at Publix, telling you to enjoy a fun visit with friends.

She is the nurse calling you about your abnormal lab results.

She is the awkward aunt at gatherings, asking bewildering questions.

She is your mother, irritatingly asking about the situation with your boyfriend, over and over again.

She is the women you correspond with on the internet, that you’ve never met, that you take turns with, commenting and liking one another’s posts.

She’s your neighbor who invites you to play tennis on Saturday mornings.

She’s the mom stressing over ensuring each child’s (multiple) teachers receive something, and worrying it is not enough.

She works at the post office, shipping off hundreds of items each day, barely remembering to send her own at the last moment.

She arranges the cookie decorating, and the Secret Santa shopping, and the surprise holiday delights.

Don’t only be kind to this person that you are frequenting on the daily, but be gentle and take care of her. Lift her up high in reverence, as she is essentially holding hands with the Mother of all Time. The magic is devoid without her. She is the magic that is you.

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