The second Sunday in May is one of my favorite days. It usually starts at the crack of dawn when my two younger siblings and I manage to make my mom a (mostly) edible breakfast. After putting it on the fanciest tray we can find, the three of us present her with breakfast in bed. The dogs sit on the foot of the bed, well aware that food in bed is a rarity in this household. We crowd around her and present her with the first part of her present, usually a card or something of the like.
Then we all get dressed and head to church. I love going to church on Mother’s Day, because the sermon is always focused on the women in the room who the congregation loves and respects so much. The sanctuary is filled with flowers, and the sun streams through the windows. There is so much love in one room, all directed toward the most important women in everyone’s lives.
After church, we head to brunch, just the four of us. At my mother’s request, we usually opt for a table on the patio to enjoy the weather. During brunch, we spend time talking, eating, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. The restaurant is crowded with other families doing the same thing. It’s the perfect way to spend a spring Sunday.
We head home to attempt to cook my mom dinner. Each year, we have varying degrees of success. She usually has to step in and help a little bit. We eat dinner all together, with the dogs sitting at our feet. After dinner, we clean up and give her our presents. She loves them or does a fantastic job pretending she does.
Growing up with a single mom, Mother’s Day always seemed more important to me than others around me. I knew how hard she worked give us a good life and how much she loved us. The second Sunday in May was my chance to try and show her how much I appreciated what she did and how much I loved her.
– By Peri Kennihan
