ON BECOMING OUR MOTHERS

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
- William Shakespeare

Whether we like it or not, we are truly reflections of our mother’s thoughts, kindnesses, ambitions and consolations to us in our early lives.

Man or woman, you will look into your own middle aged visage and note the same little wrinkles, the wisp of graying hair and a general familiarity with what you have seen in the past. We see the forming portrait of our mothers.

I look at family photos and see ancient faces that resemble my own, and often experience a strange déjà vu when I hear myself utter phrases my mater spoke. I have developed some of the same suspicions, and my friends tell me likewise, the cynical view we have of rain checks at the store, samples delivered to our doors or in the mail, and over-friendly newcomers all date back to conversations with our mothers.

Like our mothers, all of us have come to appreciate rest on Sunday, quenching our spiritual thirsts with reading, church, temple or mosque, and the radiant innocence of children.

My male friends tell me that their views on women in general, choices in life and how they express their feelings are all part of what they learned from their moms.

When I look at my own aging hands, I remember, now with sadness the powerful hands which my mother developed from working too hard, giving a million piano lessons, sewing, doing our hair and tirelessly rendering feasts for visiting relatives. I just knew then that her hands weren’t pretty, or manicured. I didn’t like them. Friends had mom’s with dainty porcelain hands and shiny nail polish. My mom had powerful, muscular hands and they weren’t glamorous.

We remember tweed jackets, warm and practical and think of her. Our shoes are more sensible, and if we are men, we think of colours she suggested, exempting the plaid combinations.

Our comforts, preferences, and our more mature sensibilities about most things remind us of what we were sure we would never appreciate.

We like good pillows, solid friends, good bargains, having a glass of wine when the sun is setting. We are more like our mothers than we ever thought we could be. It’s not as scary now to think of the people we will be. We already knew the prototypes.