“You don’t need to say anything,” she said, noticing I was stirring awake. “I’m just going to sit here.”
Thank you. That’s just what I needed. A wave of familiarity and comfort washed over me, her silhouette bringing back memories as I drifted in and out of consciousness while recovering from an early morning procedure.
I found myself dreaming of those carefree moments beside her as she navigated our old white station wagon through sunlit streets; of glancing up from my floating raft at the beach, reassured by her presence in the striped chair, ready to save me from the waves; of spinning on the worn kitchen stool while she cooked dinner, her dark curls contrasting sharply against the dim light of a snowy day. I could feel her weight at the edge of my bed as she said prayers with me, the hallway light softly glowing behind her. And I remember her slight frame in the living room window as I pulled up in my first boyfriend’s rusty blue car.
Each of these memories illuminated like a cherished photograph. A mother’s silhouette is grounding, comforting, and steadfast. In the hustle and bustle of adulthood, I had almost forgotten the peaceful, healing effect of simply having my mom nearby. She was my mirror, my confidante, and the ever-constant reminder that my haircut was all wrong and maybe I was looking a bit too thin. All these years, she has been my rock. Yet, lurking in my heart is the painful truth that one day, she won’t be there. Where will I turn when I need her? Who will cast a shadow for me then?
The ability to bear children may fade, but the essence of motherhood is eternal. It’s a beautiful calling to become that silhouette in the light of love on this planet. In this quiet room, feeling vulnerable, I recognized that my role in the circle of motherhood remains unchanged. A child never stops needing their mother, no matter how old they get, and a mother’s love is an instinct that never diminishes.
My thoughts shifted to my own children, young adults navigating their own paths. I wonder if my presence is a source of strength for them. Am I there when they’re looking for light amidst their own struggles? Did I realize, when they were younger, that love shines brightest in those mundane moments of caregiving that become second nature?
I now look forward to the years ahead with a fresh perspective. Whether it’s sitting quietly in a chair by a sunny window or sharing moments of laughter, I want to remind them of the peace that a mother’s love brings in this often unforgiving world.
I drifted awake again, a dull ache in my head. Instantly, she was there with ice chips and a cool cloth. “Do you want me to turn off the ceiling light?” she asked, bending over me.
“No, leave it on,” I replied, adding another cherished image to my collection of shadows. With sheets smoothed and pillows fluffed, she searched for something else to do.
“Thanks, Mom,” I murmured as sleep pulled me back in.
“I’ll just sit right here,” she whispered. “You don’t have to say a word.”