mama

i call her. my mother. she is petite. beautiful. her hair is curly. her eyes so so blue. her upper back is curved a bit. she doesn't mind showering naked in the pool shower. her face is soft even though it can look very stern at times. thoughtful. i used to watch her month to see what mood she was in. her face is very expressive. she can't hide how she is feeling. she cries freely. but apologizes for it afterwards. my mama always cries when we part at the airport. it's a deep cry. belly cry. it's like we are going through birth again. separation. it comes with pain. naturally. i don't feel it as much. but i am the one who is leaving. i find that is always easier. leaving. my mama is beautiful. i don't think she really knows how beautiful she is. how youthful she still looks. sometimes she reminds me of a girl. so young still. spent all these years caring for us children. helping us grow. she admits it's harder to treat herself than others. she swings her arms carelessly when she walks. she walks fast. brisk. goal in mind. she is very organized. everything needs to be planned. talked about. sometimes that annoys me. it clusters me. needing to know what exactly i want to do in the next two hours. but she needs it. that way no time gets wasted and there won't be any misunderstandings. my mama tries to please everybody. sometimes i wonder if she forgets herself in all the 'doing it right'. i wonder how she thinks about herself. wonder if she knows how awesome and perfect she is. i always have this feeling she thinks she is not good enough. she gets nervous when she has to park the car. she doesn't like to ask for something extra. she doesn't want to bother anybody. my mama still talks to me in baby language. she belittles words. cute-ifies them. sometimes that drives me crazy cuz it makes me feel like a little child. sometimes i wonder if we stopped evolving. and we are still stuck in that childhood stage. she loved being a mom. taking care of us. my mama has beautiful hands. they caress my cheek. i sometimes turn away cuz i am 'grown-up' now. but thinking of her hands always tears me up. especially when i am sitting on the plane. about to head back to canada. i see myself in her. how she gets frustrated but chooses to be silent. how she cna be passive aggressive. her eyes twitch when she doesn't like something. and they twitch when she tries to find the best possible solution to a problem. her eyes narrow and twitch. just the lower parts. i love watching that. i can almost hear the wheels in her head turning. and after a while she spits out the perfect answer.  my mama loves me. we sometimes don't know what to talk about. then we just walk silently beside each other. my mama points out things to me. trees. birds. flowers. sometimes that's all we talk about. her pointing at something and me answering 'mmmm'. i just don't know what else to say.  i wonder if she does the same with her friends too. or if she is just so used to doing this from back when we were small. i know my mama loves me. like a lion. whenever i was in trouble while traveling she would call anyone who might possibly be able to help me. and she would roar. my petite mama would roar. her heart is as big as the moon. she feels through her belly. she loves good food and her girlfriends. my mama adores the color grey. and burgundy. she talks to our plants. that's why the plant that i left behind when i moved away six years ago is now about two meters long. i feel my mama might have poured all of her love into this plant. nurtured it cuz i was gone. and so the plant grew. 'i had to cut it already once cuz it got too long', she says. i hear a little bit of pride. it makes me feel good. and a little sad. i know it was hard for her when i left. my mama has her window sill full of photos from me. and letters. and cards. 'i needed that', she tells me. when she recalls events that happened in the last years, she always takes my departure six years ago as a reference point. my mama is strong. she is moving on. trying to find herself. without three kids to raise. figuring out what she wants to do now. she works during the week. started a whole new job. threw herself into this new experience. my mama takes her job sometimes home. she wants to do it right. so sometimes she can't fall asleep at night. thinking of us, work, the next day. my mama believes in god. she is anchored in her church. she teaches sunday school sometimes. and the children love her. i don't think we have a girlfriend relationship but she understands me. sometimes more. sometimes less. i feel so grateful for my mama. for her love. her care. i see myself in her. and herself in my grandma. it's a story line. there are patterns that run through all of us. like wanting to do it right. or checking the car four times to make sure the brake is on. or asking for reassurance. or needing the kitchen to be clean. they are annoying but they also tell me where i come from. they are roots. yet, i am free to turn my crown in any direction i like. i don't have to carry those roots up my drunk. my oma didn't learn that. my mama had to learn it. her puberty didn't start until she was 40. her parents still see her as a little girl. i see my mama for who i think she is. strong. powerful. emotional. beautiful. soft. caring. quick. loving. i am thankful i have my mama.