For Every Mother
This is for every mother this coming Mother’s Day.
You see her leave the house not to socialize or party, or to bask under the gleam of flash bulbs and spotlights. You see her leaving the house for a trip to the grocery store or the market, haggling the cost of a kilo of pork, or ticking away non-essentials in a grocery list. There won’t be new shoes or high heels for her feet today: that money went for new bedsheets or a stock of soap and shampoo. She won’t get them free, most definitely, but she would get them on the best deal. Not on the Groupon clone that she could spend hours on if she knew how, but the hours she spends in the store. She basks under the gleam of her children’s smile.
Her look? Nothing too fancy, nothing too stylish. Her wardrobe is sparse, Spartan, utilitarian; the nicest clothes reserved for the wedding of her eldest, the graduation of her youngest. Nothing too fancy either: probably the inexpensive ones from the department store or the rummage sale. No thousand-peso jeans, no dress worth tens of thousands of pesos. No splurges in the wardrobe, or the makeup department. You never saw her put really expensive makeup on her face; she won’t have much use for that when she’s off to buy foundation for the eldest, or lipstick for the youngest. Nothing too fancy, nothing too stylish.
Her most beautiful feature? Her hands, most definitely. The callouses, the rough palms, the very hands that do laundry, cleaning, cooking, and all sorts of things that come with motherhood. The hands that feed children, discipline them, and teach them the right way that there is to life. The same hands that wiped tears from eyes that see failing marks on class cards. The same hands that comforted the shoulders of the weary, the tired, and even the brokenhearted. Her hands are beauty, for in many ways, those hands have created life.
This is for every mother who wouldn’t have expensive make-up kits or thousand-peso dresses for Mother’s Day. This is for every mother who saves for the daily grocery list, and not for the world’s most popular gadget.
This is for every mother whose comfort is sleep, perhaps even when awakened by the sounds of crying infants or the screams of pain for 20, or perhaps even 30 years.
This is for every mother who gave up on the caprices of the lives of ladies and took on motherhood, all out of the joy of comes with keeping life alive and well.
This is for every mother whose passion is in motherhood: that there is peace in the chaos of raising boys to be men, and girls to be women.
This is for every mother whose sanity is in family; where we men would often grow weak in the knees with just one diaper change to our credit, they do so and so many other things without fail. And they do so out of love.
This is for every mother this coming Mother’s Day. We, your sons, may find it so hard to say this just once, even on days dedicated to you, but we love you.