“Don’t you have a women’s day?” my students ask.
“Just Mother’s Day,” I say. I know full well other countries have International Women’s Day. It was a huge holiday in Bulgaria. All women and girls got flowers and cheers. Sexism and violence against women are rampant there, but flowers are still pretty.
I think it would be great to have a woman’s day in the U.S. That, of course, isn’t going to happen. “You can, of course, honor any woman you like.”
My students tend to think it odd we celebrate mothers alone. “All women work hard,” they say.
Since my mother is dead, I sometimes feel that I could do without Mother’s Day reminding me of what I don’t have. Then again, seeing a mother and daughter shopping together does that. A hundred scenes in a hundred movies do that too.
Luckily, my pain can’t dictate the world.
In the meantime, like many women, I struggle with the mom/other life balance. I could be a better cook, a better housekeeper, and a better at-lots-of-other-things-you-name-it if I didn’t write & make art. But do I ever want to think (much less say), “I could’ve been a writer if not for my family.” Of course not.
Today, I came across this article about Mother’s Day by Anne Lamott. If you read it, let me know if you want to hug Lamott or throw something at her head. Now, like many wannabe writers, I like Lamott’s Bird by Bird. Her book Operating Instructions is another great read.
Would your mother think it a gift if you wrote her a story?