[. Mother .]

.Protection. .Goddess. .Mother.

Today is my Mom's birthday.
There is a lot to reflect on.

I often see my Mom as a falling star.
I remember her when I was a little girl.
My Mom was such a bubbling youth.
She was as fresh as spring.
As Warm as summer.

At least thats how I remember.
Perhaps my Dad remember her as the 100lbs of dynamite that would tear up the dance floor on Saturday nights.
Perhaps my friends remember her as the lady with the accent, the overprotective Momma that wouldn't hesitate to kick some ass, and made amazing mashed potatoes.
Perhaps her other kids would only remember the false stories they heard, or the vague memories they had.

Stars are beautiful. Bright.
Yet, the thought of a falling star is sad.
Bleeding out all the glitter all the way down to the dark, cold, hard, ground.
Something that used to be as fragile as glass, that projected such a soft warm light..
Something that is now weathered, endured, harder.

My Mom has a lot of gold necklaces, rings, trinkets. When she dresses up, as she seldom does. I always feel like she's hiding. Trying to cover flaws. Trying to project something that she wants, but never has. Like all that jewelry would lend her some of the shine, because she feels like she lost all of hers.

My Mom's a fallen star.

She sits in the living room, watching her soaps and American Idol religiously. "The house is clean, Lee and Ed are fed, animals are fed, Ed is away. What should I do? " When I leave I think she will not know how to deal with silence, with peace. When she could be herself. She used to dance all the time, but inside the stereo case is a thick layer of dust. She hasn't listened to music in years.

Perhaps one day my Mom will reach deep inside of herself, and find the music she once had.

Regardless, I'm going to take her out tonight. I promised her Red Lobster for Mother's Day. So, that's what I'm going to do tonight. For her birthday, I was thinking maybe we could go to the mall. So she can do girl stuff, things she doesn't get to do often.