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There has always been a very strong maternal link in my family. I grew up on tales of unexplained
mystical powers of communication between mothers and daughters on my mother’s side of the family.
I gave birth to my second (and last) child at the age of 38. My mother gave birth to her forth
(and last child) at the age of 38. Her mother gave birth to her second (and last child) at the
age of 38. Her mother, my great grandmother, died at the age of 38 giving birth to her fifth child.
My mother was an eminently practical and down to earth woman who practiced her religion as naturally
as she breathed…by being kind, generous and loving to everyone. She was not the least bit superstitious
but even she had no explanation for her ability to know when her mother was about to call or when she
was sick, or why they would often turn up at family events both wearing the same color.
For Mothers Day one year they each gave the other identical gifts…African violets and a book
that neither had expressed any interest in reading nor had they even discussed Mother’s Day gift ideas.
They wore each other’s wedding bands for most of their married lives; neither could…or would…ever
explain why they had switched. They were a lot fun to be around, and even though they had their own
secret language I always felt included. As a child I had tried to read my mother’s mind or anticipate
what she would be doing but it didn’t work. She’d laugh and say, “Don’t worry, you’ll understand one
day when you’re a mother.”
By the time I was grown and married I lived thousands of miles away from my mother and our communications
were mostly by letter and occasionally by telephone. Nevertheless she knew when I was pregnant, knew both
of my children would be girls, and when she did call many times it would be just as I was about to pick up
the phone to call her. She sensed when I was troubled and I always felt the comfort of her loving thoughts
on me and my daughters.
Now when one of my daughters is in China and the other in New York we exchange emails, send instant messages,
and talk via VoIP. Digital photographs of the first grandchild arrive almost daily to record his progress.
Do I have that same mystical ability to sense when my daughters are troubled or thinking of me?
Do they sense when I’m thinking of one of them at a specific moment? Sometimes I think so, although I’ve
not discussed it recently with them.
When I questioned my younger daughter today, she replied that as children she and her sister suspected that
we - their mother and grandmother - were witches because we always seemed to know what mischief they were
planning even before they did.
Mother’s Day is perhaps not just a day to recognize mothers and their contribution to all our lives,
but also a time to get in touch with mother-daughter bonds and recharge those special mystical mothers
day gifts of communication that keep families close.
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