I suppose that this day is supposed to come with sadness for me. After all, it's my first Mother's Day without my mother around. And at some level, that's true.
But on the other hand, I can't help but smile a little at the thought of my mom on this particular day.
For my mother absolutely hated Mother's Day. Mom had her quirks and odd reasonings when it came to likes and dislikes -- I never did understand why she hated Tampa Bay's sports teams -- but Mother's Day was in an entirely different class.
It became a ritual for us. I'd call her up at some point during the second Sunday in May and say as sarcastically as possible, "I'm just calling on your favorite day of the whole year." She's laugh, and say something silly in response. And that would be it. No cards, no flowers, no gifts, no dinners out when we lived in the same area, etc.
This was a distinct contrast to Father's Day, when Dad got up early, played golf, came home, opened gifts, watched the U.S. Open on television, and had one of his favorite dinners. Come to think of it, the gifts were the only unique part of the day, since otherwise that was a pretty typical Sunday for him.
By now, you probably are wondering what Mom had against Mother's Day. She said she hated the hypocrisy of it.
According to her, she saw too many people who would show up at the door on Mother's Day, and not visit that same door the other 364 days of the year. In her world, she would prefer to be treated well for the entire year.
Come to think of it, she might have had a point there.
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