An Ode To Margaret

A journal entry. Dedicated to the memory of my dear Mother.

Tonight is one of those nights.
I sit and watch the Olympics, and my heart is heavy.
Tonight is the first night of gymnastics competition.
I love gymnastics.
So did my Mom.
I bonded with my Mother through her love of
gymnastics and figure skating.
We never missed a televised gymnastics or
figure skating event, unless I was away playing baseball
in another state.
We watched both men's and women's of the two sports.
And my Mother was very opinionated.
She definitely had her favorite performers.
(They are all athletes, in my opinion, and hers.)
From the time I was 7 until her last days in my thirties,
we shared our opinions, both divergent and parallel, and enjoyed every minute
of our time together, loving two sports that she taught me how to love.
My Mom didn't really care to understand the intracasies of baseball,
but when I talked about it, she was ever attentive.
She didn't want to know about the game.
She cared to know what the game meant to me.
That's what a Mother does.
So, tonight, I will watch this competition, a little misty-eyed, a smidgen
forlorn, but I will remember our times, sharing our love, our love for
the Olympics, Pepsi in glass bottles, popcorn popped on the stove in a pot,
and how a little boy and his Mom can spend so much time, loving things most
little boys, and even men, simply don't understand.
Yes, Mom. Nadia was your favorite.
You and she are the only ones, who ever scored a Perfect 10.