Lunch with Mom

Nothing compares to the motherly embrace of the one you love the most. The security and kind eyes of a loving mother can heal a torn and broken heart. Only she can make a slight twitch of her lips into an almost smile that will heal everything and make the worst situations better.

School days seemed so long and dreary when I was young. Mom and I walked to school together hand in hand on days sunny, windy, and even dark murky days of intense rain and snowstorms. We talked about the world. I wanted to know the why, what and how of everything. On cold wintry days my mother would snuggle me up under her sheep-skin coat that had big leather coated buttons. It was so cozy. I did not like to leave her behind to go into the cold cement corridor of the school. The boy's lavatory was near the school’s entrance. The stench of it as you went through the door and walked past it was enough to turn anyone away from that place.

Everyday Mom would walk me to school and leave me at the gate. And everyday she would be waiting to pick me up. I cannot say that about any other moms, only my special one. She is the most precious mom anyone could wish for.

We had a lovely life even though: we were long on love but short on money. My mom, my sister Gilly and I lived in a small two bedroom house. Gilly, had ginger hair, was tall, slim and seven years older then me. She spent a lot of her life with my grandmother who we call Nana. I was the baby with no dad around. Mom poured everything she could into us. Living on social security and getting by could not have been easy for her.

But for my mom everything was special. The last potato of the week and some stale bread would be ‘Sunday night chips.’ Wow! The chips were fantastic and tasted sweet. Sure the potato was old and had eyes growing out of it but it was a treat. She always made it special. I believe inside she wished she could have given us more.

Holidays were great too. We had a fantastic uncle who made up for us not having a dad. He made life perfect for us. We also had a supportive Nana, who was always there to rescue us with a pound or two when we needed it.

Sundays would be special too. We would have family outings and take long rambling walks in the woods. In the spring the daffodils and the blue bells would be in full bloom. Mom loved flowers. We would walk through the Wollywoods near my home in Yorkshire before our Sunday lunch hoping to work up an appetite.

My uncle Steven, Mom, Nana, and Gilly and I would walk through the woods. I would run, jump, climb the trees and pick the flowers. I was a tomboy so of course I would come back all dirty. My mom would scold me and tell me to never pick the flowers. Only take the ones that have fallen naturally.

She would say, “When you pick a bluebell, they never grow back.”

Of course this is the reason why the Wollywoods are a protected area now.

Bluebells meant so much to my mom. When she was small she walked through those same woods playing in the bluebells. I wonder if she picked them as a child and if her mother scolded her!

Sunday lunch was always a treat at Nana’s house. We had roast meat, vegetables and Yorkshire pudding. I can still smell it now. After lunch we would make bread cakes and distribute them to all the neighbors and leave only two pieces for granddad to eat.

Mom was a ‘Jackie’ of all trades. She could fix anything electric and cook a meal from scratch, making something from nothing. She sewed, painted, and decorated; she could write poems and stories too. What a person to look up to! On top of all that she instilled in us the fear of and love for God and put in our hearts "Taqwa" (God Consciousness).

She would say: ‘Don't steal or lie; always do your best. Don't sleep without thanking God for everything you had today.’

What a fortunate beginning for the rest of my life. Who could have known that this chubby, freckly girl with big green eyes and crooked teeth would grow up to be a Muslimah?

School days were dismal. I hated them. I could not spell and was not very academic. When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would say ‘a mom.’ The career teachers would glare because that was not a ‘career.’

They would say, ‘you have to be a nurse, a teacher, a doctor, or an engineer.’

“Isn't being a mom all those things,” I would say?

“No,” would be the reply,

“I beg to differ,” was my rebuttal.

When the bell for lunch time rang I would be off like a blast from a cannon with a smile on my face. Lunch with mom; aah the memory! In the cozy house the gas fire was lit and familiar sounds of daily programs were coming from the TV. The clothes rack in front of the fire was an inviting place to be with its steamy warm lovely fresh aroma. I would sit under the rack and have my lunch brought to me: a hot cup of tea and whatever was available. It did not matter what as long as my mother was there to share the time with me.

We sat together cozy by the fire. What bliss! Sometimes we would have a cuddle before it was time to go back to school. On a good day we had fish finger sandwiches or an egg and tomato ketchup sandwich. As long as we were together that was a special time for me.

Soon it was time to return to that grotty old school. Mom would walk me back and say, “Only two and a half hours and you'll be back home with me again." It was always a wonder to me how so much love existed between us.

Those school day lunches with Mom were something to look forward to. Because they were a welcome repast from miserable mornings and empty afternoons at school. They meant everything to me. She made it a special time, like the special chips or the special clothes that came in plastic bags from Nana's neighbors. How we loved to rummage and try on the clothes and prance around in them. So what that they did not fit; we loved them anyway.

We would ask Nana every time we went to visit. "Did Carol throw any clothes away yet?"

Lunch with Nana was almost as good as lunch with mom. We would get a big door step size chunky bread sandwich. She would bash the crust with the handle of the carving knife so we could chew it. We were also given a sweet strong orange color cup of tea that I could never finish.

Nana complained, "You never drink all your tea. You always leave half."

"Why do you think I leave half? The bottom half is so sweet that you could stand a spoon up in it."

Granddad would be sleeping in his place on the sofa snoring and grunting. Nana would sometimes tell me to have a bit of a sleep too before going back to school. She would cover me up with anything handy and say, "You won’t go to sleep till you get warm.” That was so true.

Soon we were off for the afternoon school session. It was only these special luncheon interludes that helped the days of school pass by quickly. They gave me strength to bear the taunts from the hurtful bullies. They also protected me from having to take free lunches that were given only to one parent families and poor kids. No one really knew how rich I was to have lunch with mom.

By Aziza L. Marghani