Remember when at school, every year, in honor of Mother's Day, they made us do a thousand different jobs that could then be delivered on the following Sunday to the woman of our life?
Here, I hated them.
While all my companions, seated and dirty with color, worked hard as if they were reproducing the Sistine Chapel, I was there staring at the sheet, aiming for simplicity (the house and people as toothpicks were my must). However, I am a person who usually manages to create very varied things manually, but the imposition and the lack of uniqueness in the project bothered me. I wanted to get out of the box, even if the capabilities were limited; in fact, what I have always loved was to amaze my mother.
She, not a lover of surprises, out of shame and humility (or perhaps because she would not have known how to lie if that job had been terrible), with three children and four grandchildren, has often found herself receiving a gift on this day, up to fill a drawer in the bedroom dresser of tickets, photographs, jars, houses, houses, umbrellas, hearts, stars, moons and a thousand colors that clash mercilessly. A drawer now full, between trinkets and various objects, which is on the verge of overflowing ... with paper and love.
As I told you, I have always hated impositions and for this reason I have always tried to have that same drawer filled even more with a thousand other autonomous creations that could fill even the most difficult corners to be cleaned from dust; I drew even though I didn't know how to do it, I built despite not having an excellent relationship with the vinyl glue, I committed myself to that joy that I have always loved.
And in those same limits of mine, however, that I was able (and still do), to see everything that my mother, but I'm sure many women out there, managed to do for me:
she has drawn a future and with meticulous attention she has always imagined and outlined love until it becomes tangible almost three-dimensional, marking some more important lines and treading on the nuances that are difficult to see; she has built a concrete reality in which to feel free to play, grow, meet, meet, cry, talk, even without using vinyl glue; she struggled to lose strength and sleep, even when she didn't believe that everything could be for the best ... for the sake of the one she totally loves.
A mother therefore becomes a space, not the one beyond the atmosphere, albeit even more limitless; a mother is that space in which anything can be inserted. Oh yes, it's none other than the drawer where you put everything you regularly forget and which you reopen casually saying "ahhhh, that's where I put it!", Even if it wasn't what you were looking for; but don't worry, she won't bother.
Sometimes she will have difficulty opening up she is certain, she will slide on the guides in a cumbersome way and sometimes she will come off completely, but inside her there will always be the right space for what you need. She says she does not have to depend on a mother, not to live a life as a "mammon", but I who am I can tell you that she is able to live independently, while often drawing on that drawer.
This year, therefore, unlike all years, I would like all of us to celebrate mothers from all over the world, precisely in honor of that space, because with fear, strength, fear and commitment, they did their utmost to expand every day, bringing heavy burdens on their shoulders and in their hearts. I would like to celebrate or at least think of those mothers who try to find peace by writing the blood type on the back of their children as they flee the war; those mothers who have left too soon but who continue to silently create unexpected spaces for growth and sharing; those mothers who teach strength and independence, fighting for an equality that still seems distant; those mothers who struggle with the disease but smile from a hospital bed as if nothing is happening; all those mothers who continue to be there, despite the hardest moments.
Let's celebrate that space that we children must also take care of, trying to insert as much as possible but always leaving in order, clearing their thoughts and putting on the table the ability to know how to share and grow together.
Let's learn, starting from this Sunday, to offer our space, to know how to expand, because the more time passes, the more she will need a place to leave something (she will not forget to have put it in there, because the ability of mothers it is also that of knowing where everything is, without even approaching the place where we think we have lost it);
Nothing is due to her, but as her children, we have the responsibility and we must add the joy to make her feel an integral part of us ..
Open your drawers and let her in ... surely, it will be the most appreciated gift
