Mother’s Day is such a pretty holiday since it comes around in late spring. All the flowers and nice weather. Little kids always seem so cute in their spring outfits. May seems like the perfect month for it.
For some reason this holiday gets a little harder for me each year. I’m not a mother and each year I have to sit back and watch that possibility get farther and farther away from me. At my age the window of opportunity for motherhood closes a little more and it saddens me. Sure, lots of women have children in their 40’s but I’m not even married. I don’t even have a boyfriend, so I’m even further from the window.
At this point I guess I need to accept the fact I may never have it. Sure, being a parent isn’t everything in life. But I am sad I’ll never know what it’s like to hold a baby in my arms. To watch them grow. To sooth away someone’s tears when they fall down. To get hugs and kisses and little drawings to hang on the refrigerator. To see them learn how to do things like riding a bike. To pretend to be Santa. To be proud of their achievements. To help them stand up again when life knocks them down and so on.
The job I had cashiering sometimes was agony in this realm. Child after child would come through my line. It always pulled at my heart strings when a wee one would stare at me in fascination or give me a winning smile. I remember one in particular, a little girl who looked about 3 years old was sitting in the cart and she peered through at me under the price sign. She had HUGE round eyes. She kept staring at me and her eyes reached deep down into me and melted me like nothing else before or since.
I guess I’ll never know that joy and it hurts.