Today in the UK it is Mothering Sunday, now more commonly called Mothers’ Day. However diverse our lives, however different our upbringing or lifestyles, all of humanity have one thing in common, we all have mothers. My own mother died nearly 5 years ago. She wasn’t perfect; she was human and made mistakes like we all do, but she was my Mother, and I loved her. I am mother to two grown-up children, and despite my own mistakes and short-comings they’ve turned out to be the most fantastic young people in the world and I am so proud of them – but I would say that – after all I am their Mum!
When I was a child, my Dad would take us out into the woods near our home on Mothering Sunday, and we could collect primroses for Mum. Primroses were the first wild flowers to bloom locally in early spring, and their delicate, pale yellow flower heads required careful handling. As very young children we would pull the flower heads too short, so there was virtually no stem to put in water. As we grew older we learnt to push our fingers deep into the plant, and pinch the stems longer, and then the flowers would last a few days in water. We would come home with wellie boots covered with mud, cheeks flushed with the cold, and eager to give our posies to Mum.
Thank you Mum, I still miss you.