The Tao of Poop: a child's perception

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Beautiful Mama

My mother was a woman of wonder to me. I remember watching her as a child. I would watch her cutting carrots or reading a book, and wonder what she was thinking. I would wonder if I would be like her someday, cutting carrots and reading books. She was quiet and methodical doing these tasks. Sometimes, she looked sad. I wondered what I could do to make her feel better, my wonder woman.

She could press the black and white keys of the piano and transport the room to the time of Beethoven or Chopin.

Source

I remember her head full of giant, round curlers that made her look like a warrior princess. It was a grand ceremony watching her remove them one by one and slowly reveal a head transformed.

She created miracles with pianos, with curlers and carrots. In her hands, the most mundane of endeavors were elevated to meditative mysteries to me.

I don't remember watching anyone else this way. She was a singular presence in my eyes. I wonder if Claire sees me like I saw my mother. I bet she does. It's a gift and a responsibility to have someone behold you with such reverence and expectation.

The gaze of child makes a mama beautiful. In fact, when a child says "mama", I think "beautiful" is implied in it.

A child creates a beautiful mama. When others see you as such, it's simply acknowledging the world of a child.

Thank you Sarah, Sadder but Wiser and Layana, Raising Reagan for calling me beautiful mama.