My Almost Perfect Mother by Lois Macdonald
Sunlight peeked through the vintage lace curtains that framed the graceful features of our mother. Wearing an invisible crown of motherhood and sweet serenity, she sat staring out far beyond the freshly painted window ledge. As her lips curled slightly, it became evident that she was lost in a wave of memories. Wearing an apron of compassion, she was forever prepared to serve a hot meal to the hungry or make up a room for the homeless. Her unselfish acts would usually relocate me and my trusty flashlight into the upper bunk of my oldest brother. Looking back I am confident that our all-night vigils must have left most weary guests ready to try a new location by morning? If so, however, they never let on. The lovely interlude came to an end as mother stretched out her tired fingers and began basking them in the heat of the sunbeams dancing across her lap. Growing older to mother was merely an opportunity to wear life’s badge of honor. One which she fastened with pride and dignity. Though still quite beautiful, this passionate matriarch believed it would be utter nonsense to dwell on what the good Lord could as easily take away. While a mere five feet three inches tall, she had managed to work side-by-side with father, building a legacy that we were all proud to be part of. I believe to this day that their greatest accomplishment was the spreading of love wherever they went. The success of their harvest lives on in our hearts.
Perhaps I remember mother through a veil of bias, but she seemed flawless to me. Although she was the first to admit that none of us would be made perfect until going home to be with our Heavenly Father. Still, I saw her wee imperfections as quite comical and endearing. Whenever she laughed, which was often, what would begin as a soft giggle, would undoubtedly end with a very “un-lady-like snort!” Father would shake his head and fake embarrassment which would send us into bursts of laughter all over again.
The sunlight flooded the room causing me to close my eyes. I found myself humbled and ever so thankful for the gift of such a loving and “almost perfect,” mother.