標題: Mother』s Day Pink [列印本頁] 作者: 白露為霜 時間: 2012-5-24 08:00 標題: Mother』s Day Pink 本帖最後由 白露為霜 於 2012-5-23 16:02 編輯
It』s sunny day in mid-May, when grim overhead clouds don』t threaten to dull everyone』s mood. The sun』s shining and the skies are a startling blue, weather so perfect it belongs in a fairy tale. It』s fitting for Mother』s Day.
At the Hahn school, first graders spent hours on cards cut out with stenciled scissors, drowning the construction paper in glue and glitter. Or they pour their young artistic talents into ceramic plant-holders, filled with scented raspberry candles that on the way home are scratched and sullied. They are clumsy gifts, and yet mothers adore them. Such is the acceptance and tolerance of motherhood, something that lets them forgive even the biggest mistakes or the worst behaviors.
The raining season has finally come to an end, our friend the Californian sun is out to play. Cherry blossoms swirl gracefully in the wind, continuing their joyful journeys with renewed vigor. The air is fresh with the powdery smell of new spring, and of the infamous May flowers that the April showers bring-- blooming roses, daisies, carnations and lilies in the ancient bird pond long forgotten.
With spring and Mother』s day at each other』s heels, a laughing, amiable spirit pervades everyone. That includes the cranky termagant on the corner lot, whose garden is usually littered with toys the neighborhood kids are too scared to retrieve. From Penngrove』s Main Street to Napa』s La Plaza Park, spring』s harbingers radiate in every corner, spewing lawn mowers, the steady thump of basketballs, and snippets of conversation.
A very embarrassed 12-year-old boy mutters, 「Love you, Mom」 to the plump lady next to him. She glows with pleasure. Beneath the layers of masochism and male insensitivity, she knows she still has her little boy who clamored for the extra bedtime story and good night kiss. Passing the newly opened Pacific Market, I caught glimpses of businessmen in dark suits that seemed to be in frantic rush to purchase a gift. My indignation at their forgetfulness turned into understanding. After all, there were quite a few times when I forgot Mother』s day as well.
The floral department of the grocery store is sold out, blooms ignored since Valentines Day bought and delivered. Hallmark, the greeting card maker, is doing brisk businesses.
Everywhere, there are children paying tribute to their mothers. Some are sweet and dainty, like the little girl next door, who flies into her mother』s arms in a flurry of rose tulle and light pink satin. Others are dark and sedate, the somber, flustered men who hold out flowers wilting in the afternoon heat to elderly ladies with a 「Happy mother』s day」, said in such a comical, grave way, that after moments of almost disturbing silence, all collapse into laughter.
That day, daughters who are usually rebellious and unruly kiss mothers on the cheeks. Sons who are often too busy to say good-bye to their mothers spend entire afternoons with them. Young people who think they are above their parents come home to celebrate the day of the woman who had been laundress, cook, chauffeur, teacher, counselor, all in one --- a mother.
The shine of pink radiated from everywhere that day. Ruddy cheeks, laughing eyes, smiles that grace faces with excited flush; they are all bright pink, with a placid compassion, or with heated passion. For pink represents tenderness, warmth, and the kind of unconditional love that are the characteristics of mothers.
