Today the Tinker and I spent most of the day fixing fence that our (former) bull had damaged by jumping it. Repeatedly.
He’s not here any more (the bull, the Tinker is out in the pool), you can draw your own conclusions.
So, what in the world does this have to do with Mother’s Day.
Frankly? Everything.
First, I don’t remember Mom every lounging around on Mother’s Day, expecting us to bring her breakfast in bed or pamper her. That wasn’t her style. My Mom was all about getting things done.
She taught me not to be afraid of hard work. To paint, fix, mow, weed, garden, get dirty, sweat. I don’t remember Mom going for manicures or pedicures. Frankly, I’m not sure I could live on this ranch successfully, contribute as much, without those hard lessons.
Most of my life, I was told I was “just like my Mom”, and let me tell you that used to piss me off. She and I fought. It got ugly at times.
But the fact of the matter is, the model she set, the work ethic she had, are my backbone. My Mom made me strong enough, brave enough, to drive race cars – at the same time, she was the one that was most afraid of me doing it.
Mom and I did not have an idyllic relationship. I loved her, she loved me, but we also clashed. Frequently. Spectacularly. People told me because it was we were too much alike. In retrospect, they were right. At least I hope so.
But she was also my anchor. When everything went to hell, it’s Mom’s counsel I sought. I miss it now.
So Mom, I love you. I hated you. I forgive you and hope you forgive me. I hope I’m half of the strong lioness you were.
And now I need to clean. I hope I find a penny.
