Celebrating Differences & a Mother’s Day Gift
With four decades separating us, I hold little in common with my parents, particularly in terms of their difficult times growing up. Even though I put myself through college, and worked ridiculous jobs during odd hours like many people, I can’t compare my hardships to theirs. They grew up during the Depression, and that nourished their shared tendency to save everything. My parents are the ultimate pack rats. In their fifty five years together, they’ve accumulated more possessions, trinkets, doo-dads, unexplainable broken parts, unused screws and bolts, and probably millions of buttons. The list goes on and on…
Since I’m the only one with children among my siblings, my parents decided to relocate from northern Idaho to my home state, New Mexico, a few years ago. The move had to go my Dad’s way. He’s a great man, and a witty one, too, but not always the most sensible. Although he could afford it (or we for them), he absolutely refused to use a professional mover. From that moment forward, I knew the whole situation would prove beyond frustrating. But whatever my dad wants, I follow through on, and I laugh with him later when the time is right.
I flew with my kids into the cold, snowy north over a Thanksgiving holiday, and I taught them how to pack boxes--hundreds of boxes. We packed a lot of memories which made for great stories. As difficult as the task felt to complete, my kids learned a lot about my parents.
One of my brothers and my soon-to-be ex-husband loaded the longest possible rental truck, attached our old hot rod for towing (that we'd stored on their property for years), and drove it down through a few slick and scary blizzards. Meanwhile, I flew the kids back to our home in time for school. Of course, each of us helped my parents unload, unpack, and settle into their new home a week later.
With all of these possessions in mind, I always need a lot of time to discover a new and special gift for Mother’s Day. She loves puzzles, so she’ll get one. But that’s a gift to keep her busy and away from boredom. The answer I wanted came to me from something in one of my own boxes that I’ve toted around for my lifetime. I thought of a special gift she’d given me over twenty years ago.
I moved away to college one fall when I was seventeen, and the following Christmas I took the train home to visit. The best gift came from my mom that year, and it wasn’t an electronic gadget or clothes or money (though I needed that desperately, too). My mom made a little paper board box that she wrapped like a package with green paper and a red ribbon. On the top, she taped a miniature card from plain white paper. On it she’d typed a poem that might sound familiar (I’ve seen it on many cards over the years):
This is a very special gift
That you can never see.
The reason it’s so special is
It’s just for you from me.
Whenever you are lonely
Or ever feeling blue,
You only have to hold this gift
To know I think of you.
You never can unwrap it,
Please keep the ribbon tied.
Just hold it close to your heart,
It’s filled with love inside.
My Mom thought I might consider it to be hokey at the time; but I consider that ornament one of my most special possessions.
For Mother’s Day this year, I will give Mom a similar present with my own poem on the outside, like the one she gave me. First she’ll cry, but then I’ll tease her about the several hundred boxes of doo-dads we packed that now sit in their shed and RV building, unpacked because they don’t care to open them! We always end on a laugh.
We may not have hardships in common, like being pack rats (I’m not one at all); but we share other valuable treasures.
~Sue Donckels, Managing Editor
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