“Madre no hay más que una” (Mother there is but only one) is a Mexican proverb. A mother's love doesn't compare. There is nothing else that comes close.
Who else would not eat to make sure you do? Who else makes your lunch when you are running late to school? Who else is willing to pick you up, no matter, regardless of what she’s doing?
It is overly simple to take our moms for granted during our blighted youth. I am terribly guilty of this. Angst, hormones and just being from different generations temporarily clouded my appreciation. There was a time when I was actually reluctant to eat her home cooking, preferring the artificial hospitality taste of restaurant foods. Now, I cancel on restaurant events without a single qualm. And take extreme solace whenever she is making some Gorditas de Frijolitos or anything else for that matter.
I owe my mother everything -- from my deftness with food knowledge to even my stiff bodily sways as I dance. I have unfavorable memories of falling asleep in family parties to the loud bass thumps of Rancheras -- old world central Mexican folk music that I use to abhor. My mom was always the first and last one twirling on the dance floor, out-dancing even the most agile of my young cousins. Before, it used to be torture to me listening to the polka-rooted accordion bravados announcing the “arrival of May’s blossoms” or the shrill sounds of mixed horns romanticizing about some girl's “beautiful blue eyes that graciously adorn your forehead.” Now I listen to that music or those traditional tunes on my ipod more than my favorite punk rock classics. And to this day, my mother is the only woman I’ve comfortably ever danced with.
Yes…I asked her to teach me all those dance moves that used to embarrass me.
Happy Mother's Day mom!