It’s my favorite celebration of the year: Mother’s Day. Next to the first day of school, it’s one of my happiest happenings. And it’s a real holiday, sanctioned by the government back in 19O8, at the request of Anna Jarvis of West Virginia. She wanted all of us moms to count as an individual, hence the grammar school spelling test of apostrophe “s” and not plural “s”. “Celebrate simply. No store-bought stuff.” (So says my take on Wikipedia.) That was her thinking behind the big day. She knows moms appreciate the recognition but we don’t need a lot of fuss, we just want togetherness, I know I do.
With my own mom far away, high in the heavens where not even NASA can go, my family created a Mother’s Day tradition we all enjoy and come to expect. We hike and picnic on Mt. Tamalpais in Marin. For the last eight years, we stop at my favorite deli in Lafayette for roast turkey sandwiches piled high with all the fixings and bags of different flavored chips like Nacho Cheese Doritos, Cool Ranch Doritos, Jalapeno Chips and Salt and Pepper Chips. Guess which bag is mine? We make our way across the San Rafael Bridge to a staging area in the Marin Headlands to start our hike.
 |
| On Top of the World |
Our half-mile trek to the “picnic tree”, so named by the boys, used to take us almost an hour. At ages three and five, the inaugural trip, lots of investigative detours took us off course. A sage-green field of copper-filled rocks needed collecting and the ten-foot protruding, jagged mounds needed climbing. A hundred yards farther, a fallen oak, almost as big around as my three-year-old is tall, beckons my boys over to see what lives in its decaying bark: Streams of ants working in the bright sun, except the queens, the moms of the colony. Every day is Mother’s Day for queens. Then it’s a stretch of open tall grass with a narrow path, leading to our special spot. At this point, the boys are ready to hitch a ride on mom or dad’s back.
 |
| This is the Life |
All tuckered out and starving, we spread out our Mexican blankets from college spring break (totally got my five bucks worth) and dive into the mega sandwiches, too big for any mouth. We have an expansive view of the Pacific Ocean. In the distance, splinters of the San Francisco skyline pierce the wispy fog. Crumpled cards come out of the backpack, sometimes homemade and sometimes carefully selected just for Mom from the stationery store. I read over them and enjoy the message of the moment, “thanks for making the goodest pancakes” or “thanks for driving me all over” and “by the way, did you notice this card is in English for an American holiday but it’s made in China.”
The messages change over the years but the boys and my husband are still grateful for me and let me know it. The hour-long hike, one way, now takes twenty minutes. To date, we eat the same big-mouth sandwiches and sit on the same best-deal blankets. And the boys are still boys, searching for the perfect token green rock and conquering the tall, rocky mounds. The fallen oak awaits, shrunken and home to generations of ants.
I’m willing to bet, come Sunday, the day will be exactly thus, and it will be a very happy Mother’s Day for me and my family.
What is your Mother’s Day tradition?
Share on Facebook