Mother’s Day Card to Myself

by erika

Dear Erika,

I am so proud of you for understanding that when your son said, “I don’t know why I used to hate you, but now I like you” on Mother’s Day morning, just after he so sweetly woke you up with a gift offering brought to your bedside, that it, too, was an offering.  Because you’ve known he has hated you a little, blamed you for everything, including this life you gave him that tortures him at age 6. 6 years-old and already cursing the world he was brought into and your womb that did the transport. 6 years-old and already knows nostalgia and grief, melancholy and remorse.

He is your son, after all.

So this admission was a bit of a relief. You are not crazy! He does have a coin with your face on it that says LOVE and HATE  that flips in his heart and sometimes you don’t know which side you’re going to get.

I can’t wait until you get to this shore where I sit this morning, mug in hand, looking at the water, watching your boy, now a man, who is already up and walking on the beach in his Mackinaw Island sweatshirt you two bought together on your first trip way up North. I can’t wait to until you have survived his teenage years and all that bullshit and blame (dark days, my friend but you’ll make it) and get to this place where he pours you a cup of coffee that is all the apology you will ever need.

Happy Mother’s Day, Sweet Mama.

64-year old Erika

p.s. that Valentine he made you, the one where he wrote “Isadora Duncan” under things you like, you still have and keep in a book of sacred things in your desk. Know that he sees you and the coin in his heart turns so much more often to LOVE.