Back to your awaiting nest: Reflections on Mother's Day
By Kim S
As mentioned in our last blogpost, MILK is hosting a Palestine fundraiser this Sunday afternoon between 12 and 4pm. I am hoping to be there with my daughter, writing a letter of hope to a child in Gaza, while drinking tea and eating cake, and I hope to see many of our dear readers there.
This week’s post is written in honour of Mother’s Day. We know that our relationships with our mums can raise all sorts of emotions, both comforting and challenging. We hope that whatever your own feelings are, you can navigate Sunday as peacefully as possible.
This Wednesday MILK hosted a creative writing workshop based around the powerful poem To My Mother by Palestinian poet in exile, Mahmoud Darwash. An ode to both his mother and his Palestinian homeland, our lovely Syrian poetry guide Saffana led us through the beautiful metaphors, as well as the nuance that may have been lost in translation from Arabic to English.
The poignancy of the subject matter led to an emotive session, as the poem prompted us to think about our relationships with our own mothers. As we shared our memories it struck me how great the contrast is between the bland platitudes offered up in cards and gift suggestions for Mother’s Day, and the really complex feelings that even the most loving and straightforward mother-child dynamic can bring out. We heard stories of unconditional love and gratitude, but also of prickliness, loss of self and the childhood terror of having to seek medical attention for a sick mum.
What really emerged from the session was how lucky those of us were who had any sort of positive relationship with our still-living mothers. How sad those of us who had lost our mothers felt, even if that loss happened decades ago. Truly one of the most complicated connections we might have with anyone. As children who love our mums we might wonder what gift to give them this Sunday. As both a mother and a daughter, I think what I want most of all is what everyone wants from those closest to them: to be seen, to be heard and to be cherished. And maybe to be spoilt just a little bit: whether that’s the worst/best ever breakfast cooked by a pre-teen son, or a buffet dinner at Cosmo in Silverburn (just a couple of favourite Mother’s Day experiences shared this week!)
