Second Mom

Well, that day is upon us once again. Social media is overflowing with "Repost this if you love your mother" and "God couldn't be everywhere, so he made Mothers".  Advertisers tell me my mother wants jewelry and chocolates and flowers on her special day. We should always appreciate, but often that becomes taking for granted, so we have a holiday to remind us.

I did not have one of those mothers.  My mother did a lot of things very wrong.  She did have good qualities. It was from her I learned to respect other cultures (Specifically, American Indians, but one thing leads to another.)  She struck terror into the hearts of teachers she felt were dealing unfairly with her children. But the fact is, she should never have been a mother. She simply was not equipped for motherhood.

She did, however, have one of those mothers.  Mamma (pronounced Mam-ma) filled in the gaps to the best of her ability and I worship the ground she walked on.  And there was another, the woman I call my Second Mom.  Not a stepmother (I was never allowed to like her) but the mother of a friend from school.  After over twenty years, that friendship imploded, but Second Mom never turned her back on me.

Both Mamma and Mother are dead now, but every year Second Mom gets a card for Mother's Day.  Even though I was past puberty when I entered her life, she did for me the things a mom should do.  The things Mother didn't do. She helped me through where Mother didn't.  I wish I could see her more often, but circumstances prevent that.

Please, if you comment publicly on this blog, refrain from spewing venom in Mother's direction. This isn't really about her.  It's about Second Mom and how much she still means to me, nearly a decade after I had to walk out of her life for all intents and purposes.