Bless your heart

It’s Mother’s Day weekend, and I’d be remiss not to talk about my sweet mom. I’ve mentioned before that I was raised in the South. My mom was the quintessential Southern woman. She threw beautiful dinner parties, welcomed new neighbors with baskets of homemade goodies, cooked meals for people who were sick or recovering from surgery. When she ran into someone she knew, she always took a moment to hug them and ask how their family was. She taught me to send cards and letters to check in with far-away friends and family. She said the best way to show you care was to do something personal. She was always so gracious to everyone. She laughed at herself regularly, and always had a beautiful smile that welcomed you in.

I’m proud to say I’m a lot like my mom. However, now that I’m a single woman again this late in life, it seems things have change. People today are different than when I was growing up. Apparently, my intentions might be easily misconstrued in this new modern world. Here’s just a few examples:

• People don’t want to be touched anymore, so hugging can be awkward. Especially if you’re a widow. Women apparently don’t want you hugging their man, no matter how long you’ve been friends.
• It’s dangerous to put things in writing these days. A simple card can be mistaken for something suggestive. I promise you, if I mail you a card it’s just because I was thinking about you and wanted to wish you well. I don’t want to marry you or have your babies. The baby ship sailed long ago.
• People don’t want you showing up randomly at their home, even if you’re just dropping off food. They are certain you’re just being nosy, or the widow is after their husbands (see above). Curtains are drawn, doorbell cameras powered up as they watch you standing there uncomfortably waiting.
• Several friends have mentioned if I give baked goods to a single man, it can be taken as a flirty gesture. Let me tell you, it might be a labor of love for me to stand in my kitchen for hours on end mixing, rolling, baking, cooling, and boxing up treats – but it’s not romantic love. It’s the “I love you friend” love, and the “I wish you were here to help me clean up the mess” kind of love.

I’m not sure my mom could survive in this new age of unsociable, reclusive behavior. While her ability to carry on all of her hospitality traditions waned in her later years, her need to bake brownies and bring them to you on a paper plate covered in saran wrap and tied up with a recycled ribbon from the previous year’s Christmas decorations would be too strong. I have no intention of changing who I am to adapt to a world that is clearly colder and less inviting than my mother’s world was. Baking brings me joy. It helps me stay out of my own head and gives me a chance to brighten someone else’s day. Writing is cathartic. Sending letters and cards is my way of saying “I’m thinking about you.” I want to carry on my mom’s tradition of making everyone feel like family. I mean, we’re all just walking each other home anyway, right?

I’ll be hugging necks, buying stamps, and delivering treats for as long as I can. If I offend someone, I’ll just say “bless your heart” and keep on keeping on. And yes, I do have a doorbell camera, but if I’m home I’m opening the door and welcoming you in.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms, step-moms, grandmothers, furr moms, biological moms, adopted moms, and the strong women who step into a motherly role every day. And to my beautiful mom in heaven. I love you and miss you more than all the saran-wrapped paper plate brownies in the world!