For what seems like most of my life, I didn't have a good relationship with my mother. I haven't carried memories of a wonderful relationship.
Something changed about my feelings today. A song started playing over and over in my mind. (I think they call that an earworm.) I remember it from a children's record: "I don't want to play in your yard, I don't like you anymore." The lyrics aren't what made me think of my mother, just the idea that I had songs to hear at an early age.
Of course, our parents are responsible for the people we become. I know that I have some of the traits/behaviors of my mother, some that aren't positive. But today I'm thinking of the subtle (or not so subtle)ways she influenced my life. Those children's records are one of them. She enrolled us in a Golden Book record club, where we got children's records in the mail. From what I remember, these records told stories through song. At the time I didn't realize it, but many were set to classical music. From these I learned the music of Scheherazade from the story of Aladdin, Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty from the record of the same name, Prokofiev's Cinderella. I remember going to seethe opera Carmen with her. There were piano lessons, as well. My love for classical music (if not my lack of talent in piano) has its roots here.
I (and my sister, maybe my brother) had Humpty Dumpty Magazine, Children's Digest, Highlights for Children, all the Nancy Drew books and more. My mother always had a few women's magazines on hand. No wonder I'm a reader.
There were shopping trips, toys, dolls, parties. Girl scouts. Perhaps these haven't made quite as much of a mark on me. But they remind me that my mother cared. She was the best mother she knew how to be. And I need to appreciate that.
