For as long as I can remember, both in school and in Venezuela, Mother’s Day has been celebrated on the second Sunday in May; this year it fell on May 10, though the date varies sometimes.
Even though we’re still going through tough economic times, there will always be a way to celebrate or spend this day with those who gave us that title: our children, and also our mothers.
But it’s also a commercial holiday, when sales of gifts and other items bought to celebrate go through the roof. I’m so grateful to God that my mother is still alive, but for me, Mother’s Day is any day—especially since we suffered a family loss just a month ago. My other siblings are in other countries; one couldn’t come, so only two of us spent this day with my mom.
To my younger brother, the black sheep, I’m like a mother, because I was already working by the time he was born. I used to take him out for walks and trips. He asks for my blessing, so he wanted to treat us to a meal at the house where he lives—which is our mother’s house, where he was born. In other words, we’re practically neighbors.
I went with my kids; my mom was there. When we arrived, there were greetings and blessings. My brother and sister-in-law had almost everything ready. I went into the room for a while with my mom, who was watching TV, and then talking on the phone with my siblings who had called her. Although it would have been ideal for all of us to be there, let’s hope to do it again soon.
My brother took a shower, went out for a bit on his motorcycle to buy something, and when he came back, he fired up the grill in the backyard. He took everything out; it was getting a bit warm, even though it looked like it might rain. My sister-in-law Natashat made a drink they call “Beach Red Wine” at the beach—it’s pink sangria with chinoto. That’s what they told her when she went to the beach about two years ago, but it’s really delicious and smooth.
When I was a kid, on this day, we’d go to Grandma’s house, have a meal, my mom would bring the cake, my other uncles and aunts would come with their kids, and in the afternoon we’d all go back to our own homes.
Now everything is different, because of migration, many children have left, leaving their mothers alone, while others have lost their mothers or their mothers have lost their children.
All photos were taken with a Samsung Galaxy A16 cell phone.
Translation using the DeepL app.
