A little love, a few flowers, and a grateful heart !

We celebrate Mother's day here in the US every second sunday of May.

And today is that day.

Forget buying the flowers or making a special meal for me.

Nobody in my family even remembers to say, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

And honestly, that’s okay.

Years ago, I taught my children that love is not something meant for just one day on the calendar. We always believed that every day is special, and somewhere along the way, they truly embraced that philosophy.

Because to me, every day becomes Mother’s Day when my children are kind to one another and to the people around them.
Every day is Mother’s Day when they make sure no one feels left behind.
Every day is Mother’s Day when they offer a helping hand to someone who needs it.

And I know they do all of those things.

So how can I measure motherhood by bouquets, brunches, or greeting cards when the real reward is watching your children grow into compassionate human beings?

That was the gift all along.

Those values were first taught to me by my mama. She passed away a few years ago.

Quietly, lovingly, through her actions more than her words. She taught me that kindness matters, that people matter, and that love is shown in everyday moments. I only hope I have done justice to her lessons and passed even a fraction of them on to my own children.

As for the flowers?
Yes, I bought my own flowers . It's ok.

I was lucky enough to have one of my children nearby to take my picture which is more important to me than them buying me those flowers.

Maybe no one said “Happy Mother’s Day,” but they live the values I hoped to teach them every day. That’s enough for me.

But honestly, I’ll admit it… I still wouldn’t mind if someone surprised me with flowers every now and then. Consider this my gentle little hint to the universe.

Because while love is found in everyday actions, flowers once in a while would definitely be the cherry on top.

And now I’d love to hear from you:

What does Mother’s Day truly mean to you — grand gestures or everyday acts of love? Is there a small thing your mom taught you that has stayed with you for life? Do you buy flowers for your mom?

Comments

My self care journey - Oxygen mask.

“ In the event of a sudden drop in pressure, an oxygen mask will drop from above. Secure your own mask first before assisting others. ” The first time I heard this, I was flying for the first time in my life on an international flight from Mumbai to Atlanta via London. I was so excited to go to America on my own that I did not really pay that much attention to this routine preflight announcement. Since I had flown to America, it also meant flying back, again, several times to go home. I heard the same announcement during all those trips but at that point, they were still some words, their true meaning still had not registered. Then came another first time of my life, this time it was flying with my first born, for the first time. By this time, I was not as excited about flying, the novelty had completely worn off. Now I am only concerned about the safety of my baby, he is sitting in my lap, one year old. Then they make the above preflight announcement, in sever...

Journey as a mom driver.

Several years ago, when my parents were visiting, I took them to church for Easter Sunday mass. It was the first time I had driven since becoming a mother… for the second time around. This time, I had “twins.” They were less than two months old. I hadn’t driven in several months. I thought I could use the break from taking care of them. The church was not too far, I would be gone for at the most an hour and a half. Little did I know that it would be a defining moment in my journey as a mother. While at church, I just could not focus, they were at home with their father, they were safe, but that was the first time I had left them at home and gone somewhere. We ended up leaving before the final hymn. I was in a hurry to get home, only a few minutes from home. Sleep-deprived and anxious, I ran a red light. That split-second decision cost me more than I can explain. By the time a police officer got there and approached the car, I had had a complete meltdown, bawling at the s...

Legacy of Journaling!

Writing has always had a special place in my heart and its roots go way back to my childhood, to my father, my inspiration. My father has kept a journal, a daily diary since he was, I believe 20 years old, sort of chronicles, at first of his life and then our lives. He would write down all he did every day and along with that, he would also write down community happenings, a little note of news, local, nationwide and or global events which occurred on that day. He has a record of everything and anything that happened in our tiny community where I grew up and where record keeping was almost nonexistent. A tiny catholic rural community in India. He meticulously noted birthdays, anniversaries, and even deaths, along with details of dignitaries, clergy coming and going. He was a walking encyclopedia of our community's history. He is well known in the community partly for that reason, as a historian, their source of information. They come looking for him when they ne...

Rekha's Ramblings

Search This Blog