Lisa-Jo has had guests at her place this week, writing about their moms. Click here to read them all. Today's writing prompt, then, is to write our own, "What Mama Did". In five minutes.
I hesitate.
Because I know what my mama will do. She will cry when she reads it.
GO
And that's what mama did.
Mom is tenderhearted and her emotions are right there, at the top of her tiny 5'2" frame. She will apologize and she will pat her chest and try to compose, but what she wants is a hug and not a kleenex.
Mom brought countless hot rags to my bedroom in the middle of the night when the pain of the earache was inescapable, because she didn't want anyone to hurt alone.
She'd remind me after volleyball daily-doubles that if it hurts, don't do it.
She has always had clothing for every size and season because she is sentimental and because there might be something there that someone would need. Regardless of the billion times since I was 13 that I refused her style choices, she keeps trying.
Mom would give you her last dime and a loaf of bread, though her own possessions have never been great or glamorous or enough.
She frets over gifts and worries that they're not enough. She buys your birthday gift 3 months early and gives it to you too soon because she just loves you and loves to give to you. And that is enough.
Mom will call you if she hears an ambulance just to be sure it's not you, and she'll text just to say she loves you. Then text again to let you know she's alright, just missing you.
She'll tell you to go to the doctor when you're sick and be sure to get enough rest and maybe you need to take a break.
She'll cry when you give birth because she knows it hurts and because she couldn't be happier about another baby to love.
And that's what mama still does.
She cries because she loves and it hurts, to love so much.
STOP
{Mom - sorry for all the times I've made you cry. Like now. I love you!}
Linking up with a community of writers at Lisa-Jo's who think it's fun to try to write for 5 minutes without editing or overthinking.