It’s never too late

Sherri T.

I grew up the youngest of three children. There was a gaping gap of 10 years between me and the eldest, my brother.

I was convinced throughout my childhood that I was an accident. I sincerely hope that I derive from a moment of passion but can’t be too sure about that. Probably not.

Still the thought of possibly being a “love child” was intriguing.

The love part of “love child” was good because there definitely was love in our home. But the child part of “love child” wasn’t so good because everyone seemed anxious to get on with their lives. This child business was taking way too long.

As soon as it became safe (and legal) to leave a kid alone, my parents took full advantage of their newfound freedom. Growing up, I spent lots of time basically raising myself.

Fortunately, I can look back in hindsight with new eyes. While I might have felt alone much of the time, I really wasn’t.

I was surrounded constantly by my parents’ care, even in their absence.  I was guided continually by their words, even though often conveyed in the form of “commands.”

It was always clear that my father and mother were wise people.

Dad was a brilliant Renaissance man who could rhyme off facts and figures about any historical or political event. About any place, at any point in time.

Mom’s wisdom derived not from books. But it was equally important.

My mother’s wisdom came from her head, her heart and her hardships. Tough life, tough love.

Her words are as wise now as they were then. Growing up, I never really appreciated what they meant or why they were significant. I do now.

So I am taking the time to document the wise words of my mother. And to collect the sage words of other mothers and women – friends, grandmothers, sisters, aunts − whose wisdom is profound yet so often unrecognized and unappreciated.

I am using this moment as an opportunity to say the “thank you” I never did. Even though my mother has been gone more than 30 years, I know now that it’s never too late.