“A Mother’s Mother’s Day”
My mother was always my best friend. She taught me so much. And even when I got in trouble or tried to burn down the church, in the end, she always wrapped me in her arms and held me tight. But, I guess, there was one thing that really stuck in my mind about my mother. Every Mother’s Day she had a tradition that she started when I was three years old, at least, that’s when I remember it starting.
It was a day that she would let me sleep in, I remember that. She and my other momma would talk amongst themselves quietly. I remember peaking out on them a couple eyes and it every mother’s day she would always have this sparkle to her emerald eyes like she was three-year-old as well and her Mommy was about to take her out for ice cream or something. Talla would always take the day off on Mother’s Day, as she was my mother, as well. And Rayna would pop in every year, as well.
And I would remember waking up and wandering out to the kitchen where my mothers and my sister were having their talk and the instant Mom saw me, her face would light up. Especially that first time. “Why, hello there, my little Princess. And what would you like for breakfast today?”
“Ceral,” I muttered in my little baby voice.
“Alright. what kind of cereal would you like? This one?” She would ask as she went through the cereals while I sucked on a pacifier. I would shake my head until she reached the sugariest cereal that she had. “Of course you want this one. You are getting low on sweetness, and need a refill, right?” Mom would say and I would nod with a smile.
Momma Talla and Rayna would laugh as Mom poured my cereal for me and put some milk on it. She would then feed me, making all sorts of noises and things. “You’re silly, Aunt Laura,” Rayna said once.
“She’s a mother,” Momma Talla replied.
“Speaking of, Rayna, you know my tradition. It’s mother’s day, you should call me ‘Mom,’” Mom would say.
Rayna smiled broadly. “Yes, Mom.”
Although, Rayna wasn’t my sister by blood, but I always though of her as my big sister. And I always loved being babysat by her.
After breakfast, Mom would change my diaper and wash me and change me into my day clothes. Then she would put a coat on me if she thought I needed it. She would then turn to Rayna and Momma Talla and say, “You two going to come with us?”
“Where are you going?” Rayna usually asked.
“We’re going to visit her grandma,” Momma would say.
I remember that first time, Rayna and Talla agreed, but usually it was just Mom and I, although Rayna would often catch up to us later. But, I remember Mom always cried as she stood in front of her mother’s grave. “Hey, Mom. I brought my little one with me,” she would tell the gravestone. “Figure she should spend some time with you.” It was about thin that the tears started to flow, and Mom wouldn’t do anything to stop them.
“Don’t cry, Mommy,” I would say and wrap my little arms around her neck.
Mom would just laugh as say, “It’s alright to cry sometimes. Especially, when you miss someone.”
And that was how we spent every Mother’s Day. Even as I grew, we would always journey to Grandma’s grave site. Rayna even started visiting the grave of her biological mother, walking with us to and from the house. Talla stopped going after a while, saying that she didn’t like to see Momma cry like that. And I told her, that it was okay to cry sometimes, but she insisted that seeing Momma cry made her cry.
I only remember one year when Mom didn’t come to the cemetery. And that was the year that she “died.” It was my first year visiting Grandma’s grave alone, although, Rayna went with me, herself a mother by then. That itself, was a blessing and one that Mom was thrilled to hear. I remember the day when Rayna announced she was pregnant.
I just wished I could have understood Mom when I had my son. But, even so, I still kept the tradition of visiting the cemetery that now had both my mother’s gravestones next to them. And just behind them were the grave sites of my Aunt Whitney and her husband and daughter. I remember that Whitney never visited the cemetery after her daughter was killed. That loss had been so unbearable for her, that she shut down every business she owned and practically locked her self in her home.
Now, though, Whitney was together with her daughter and the unborn grandchild that Sasha had been carrying. And now, it was a joy to visit the cemetery on Mother’s Day and see everyone gathered around my Grandma and her grave. Although, everyone was in their feral form at that point, save me, Rayna and our kids, I could almost see the smiles on their faces when I approached with my brand new baby boy.
Rayna wandered a little further past the large crowd to pay tribute to her own mother, while I knelt down and showed everyone the newest member of the Graive lineage. He was a black wolf with emerald eyes, just like my mother, and just like his mother. Instantly, Laura, my mother, approached me in curiosity as everyone watched. “Hey, Mom. This is my new little Prince. His name is Jackson Daniel Graives.”
Mom gave me a questioning look at the sound of the family name, and I laughed. “Oh, my husband is a very big fan of yours and he insisted that we keep the name ‘Graives,’” I explained and that put her at ease.
I noticed Talla sitting on the edge of the crowd. Laura turned her head to her wife and there must have been words exchanged between them ’cause Talla suddenly moved up and took a closer look at the little wolf in my arms. “Yeah, isn’t he precious?” I asked. “Happy Mother’s Day, Moms.”
And I never stopped the tradition that my mother started. I’m also pleased to say, that when Jackson found himself a girl, they started to partake in the tradition as well. Unfortunately, he would be the last two legged member of the family. His wife gave birth to traditional, feral wolf pups. Eden was returning everything to it’s natural state. But that is fine with me. I have my son and I can visit my mother anytime I want. My mother. The woman who raised me and taught me so much. Both my mother’s did, but it was my birth mother that I truly bonded with and who I always ran to when I was scared or hurt or just wanted someone to hold me.
