I found a new word today remarkably close to Mother's Day and very reminiscent of my mother, this my second Mother's Day without her.
Sombremesa. It's a Spanish word that literally means "upon the table," however, it's often used to refer to the tradition of staying for a bit after a meal to relax and enjoy conversation.
Towards the end of her life, my mother confessed that she longed to just sit at the table after a meal and relax. She yearned for Sombremesa. But we were all in such a hurry. And being the type who wanted us to read her mind, Mom didn't tell us her wishes. Also, she thought she didn't deserve to have her wishes granted... or even acknowledged.
By the age of 81 she worked up the courage to tell me this one desire, to spend time relaxing at the table after the meal she worked so hard to create and serve.
It angers me that she didn't feel worthy enough to express her desires. It bothers me that we accepted it. It frustrates me that my efforts to free her from her self-imposed self-denial were rebuffed every single time.
As Mother's Day approaches, I think about Sombremesa and focus on the memories from when we did, in fact, relax around the table at the end of a meal. Goofing around swirling our fingertips around the mouth of mom's crystal glasses, listening for the choral sound she promised. Listening to mom's adult "grandkids" admit the shenanigans they pulled off in their youth. Mom acting shocked they would commit such dastardly deeds. Comparing college exploits and pranks from the "old neighborhood" in upstate New York.
On this Mother's Day, I'm thankful for the beautiful table my mother set, for the mouth-watering food she prepared with so much love and mostly? For the Sombremesa.
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