My Mother's Life Dedicated to the Only Woman I'll Love, My Mother.

Some of my most vivid memories, are coming home from School. It didn’t matter if it was elementary school, or junior high. Everytime I came home, Mom was there waiting. Rarely was the house empty, and I wonder, how that all got lost in today’s frentic paced world?

I know, economics makes it sometimes impossible, but is it truly necessary for Mothers to not be there for their children?

Annice Kovnats

Thing is, I would come home, and there was this smiling face, asking me how my day went, what did I do, learn, and all that motherly stuff. At the time, let’s be honest, it seemed a pain in the butt, but today, decades later, it has a lot of meaning. I never knew if other Mother’s did that, still really don’t, but to me, it makes mom special.

She didn’t want to be just a stay at home mom, she had other ambitions, but my development took precedence, and that appears to have been a  rarity, even back then. I guess in a way it is about putting your desires on hold, your dreams, for someone else. Many religious leaders talk about a leap of faith, in order to believe in God, yet I look at Mom, and wonder at her faith. How she, obviously, had faith that I would grow up to be someone worthy, whether being just a shop keeper or some mover and shaker. She truly had faith, the real kind, that these religious leaders just talk about.

Funny, how at the time what we think is an annoyance, we later come to realize was really something special. I mean that is a true sign of love, not just words. Too often we say them, but they have little conviction behind them. They are just words, devoid of the actions needed to make them have meaning. Mom had more action, more deeds, behind those words, that make them very meaningful, today.

Maybe it is just a trick of my mind, believing all that, and yet I don’t think so. Deep down inside, I feel it, and despite the frustrations of today’s situation, I remember how good it felt, to see her at the door. I remember how it felt odd not to see her at the door, and only until I did see her, did I feel that I had come home. Until then, I felt, well let down. I mean she was there, but not at the door.

In so many ways, that simple act of love, of sacrifice, is what makes me, who I am today. It is the example that stands every single test you can throw at it. It is what love truly is, and something one needs to try and hold onto. Too often, we forget or take those actions for granted, yet they are the backbone of what guides our own actions, decades later. Least they do for me.