A Little Something My Mom Once Shared with Me.

“A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness and cause peace to return to our hearts.”

Washington Irving

I remember when I was just a little girl, my father had purchased this piece of land deep in the woods, and far away from all the noise of the city. As he chatted on to the workers about this change and that, I took my first big long gaze of our whole new world together.

To any other observer, the property was a mess of construction—chaotic, and with no end in sight. But I never saw the piles of planks, and nails, and trash—I only saw the hope in my parent’s eyes. And through their eyes, I began to see this world.

The house was tucked far away in the woods, surrounded by many acres upon acres of thickly wooded land that drew me in with each new day—much like the moon draws the tide when it begins to rise against the night sky.

A small creek ran directly through the property, inviting me with its bubbles and burbles to follow it through to this day’s newest adventure.

These were my woods and the woods were my home.

I would often spend all day scrambling about these woods, flipping over each and every rock along that creek bed—digging my hands knuckle deep into that cold earth until my fingers were nearly black and blue, and the sun began to set.

Nighttime was always a chore for my dear mother, who spent the evening scrubbing away the details of my day—taking in all of my stories, and doing her best to calm my heart for just a bit. She never seemed to mind my excitement, smiling softly and nodding in only that way a mother knows best how to do.

And no matter what the worries of her own very long day, she always seemed to listen intently as she combed the knots from my waist long hair, while I sipped at the warm cocoa she heated just for me.

My Mom, she understood me and my amazement at this most incredible world. She understood each time I rattled on about this, or about that, that it was because I was seeing things each day in a brand new way.

There is nothing greater in this world or this life, than a mother who’ll encourage you to run and to play…to scrape up those knees, leaving yet another gaping hole in your pants.

And the best mothers will never complain about the trail of muddy footprints leading in from the outside and across her newly washed floor. And that dirt embedded so deeply under your nails? She knows this dirt will be easily scrubbed away and that scrubbing is a small price to pay for a grand new adventure.

Mothers always seem to know just what to say, when your heart crashes suddenly into a million pieces onto life’s floor.

“A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity. It dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.“

Because, mothers are just kind of built with that much love. They are the foundation to our world, and a constant source of unconditional love.

These days, I’m all grown up and a mother myself—but I shall never forget the lessons my mother shared with me.

“Live each day, fully and completely. Smile, in the sunshine and in the rain. Love with all and everything you’ve got.

The world is full and filled with a most brilliant magic and for only those who are willing to see.

And, to those who can see—adventure awaits. So go on, get out there and squeeze the ‘carpe diem’ out of this day.

And, don’t worry so much about getting dirt stuck between your toes.”

Namaste and Happy Mother’s Day—to every single mother out there…and all of that dirt they’ve helped to wash away.

About

Tara Lemieux is a mindful wanderer, and faithful stargazer. Although she often appears to be listening with great care, rest assured she is most certainly‘forever lost in thought. She is an ardent explorer and lover of finding things previously undiscovered or at the very least mostly not-uncovered.

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