Refuge

Take the word "Mama".

Tender. A world of meaning. I always called my mother "Mama" until I was a teenager and moved to the more dignified "Mother". I think all my sibs stuck with "Mama". Years later I was talking with Mother about this and she said she did the same thing as a teenager! I can still hear my aunts and uncles referring to Grandma as "Mom" and my mother using the title "Mother". Now, why I wonder, would we both have done the same thing. Curious.

But one time when I was squarely in the Mama days, my six-year-old friend and I were climbing the willow tree in her backyard. As often developed on those hot summer days, we had to spice up the action by daring ourselves to see who could climb the highest. Higher and higher we crept until I went a branch too far and crack! - the whole branch broke and I fell flat on my back from a substantial height, knocking the breath clear out of me. At the first tiny bit of speech I could generate came to gasp "M...a...m...a!! It is astonishing that I didn't break anything but the branch! And I was truly mortified after it was all over that I played the Mama card!

But there you have it - then and now - I turn to that holy of holies, my mother, in times of deepest emotion. I know it will all feel better if I can just get to her side.