Easter was pretty good. And I mean seriously good.
This was a long weekend I was dreading. Four days straight stuck with my parents and in particular my mother. And not only would they be at home all weekend but the fact that it was a religious holiday at that. Those kind of holidays that are marked in calendars worldwide because they’re significant, those special days of guaranteed family banquets are the days she feels the loss of your presence most Maria. It always leaves her a sad, miserable mess and leaves me an open, easy target during her many tirades of displeasure.
But this weekend gone? Easter 2014?
Mum was like the mum I used to know.
Her and I playing nice – and I mean genuinely nice, just like old times.
We talked and joked around with each other without a shred of malice lining our words and actions. We actually baked together too and spent the entirety of the weekend in the kitchen with the other, assisting one another when needed. Her cooking away the savory parts of the feast set for Sunday and I blissfully baking away sweets and nibbles.
Mum was back. The good mum. The one that is a real joy to be around. The kind and loving mum that I knew a few years back. The woman everyone else has the pleasure of being acquainted with, bar me. It was like all past transgressions melted away, forgiven and forgotten and not just from her but from me too. We spent all day together. From early morning to late at night. We even made baklava together. Our first attempt at that. It was messy and could have easily resulted in name calling as such a situation would normally call for, but no. This time we laughed over our failures and mishaps.
Did I mention fun? We had fun too. Yes, fun!
I really hope it lasts and I hope I get my old mum back. A mum I had actually long forgotten about. Though yesterday early morning there was a sign or two that the monster may be stirring and resurfacing. And just as I thought all hope was lost, and I mean all hope was lost, the monster disintegrated. We were back to the cheerful and jolly mother from the weekend.
What is also funny is that last night while watching a television program, a scene with two girls running into their mothers arms at the airport after being apart for a short while brought a few tears to my eyes and got me thinking. I feel that in seeing how close those two young girls were with their mothers it had me envisaging how one day that will be my daughter and I. Bonded fully, respected and besties with each other. But I happened to stop half way through that thought and revised it to that may be mum and I again.