A Mom's Five Eyes

In the 1950s, all of our mothers had “eyes in the back of their heads”. At first I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I decided it meant two eyes in the back, underneath their hair. When a boy at school stared obsessively at pictures of Hindu’s third eye, I believed him when he said it meant a higher consciousness. That added up to a total of five eyes.

All my friends’ moms watched us in different ways. D’s mom had gorgeous skin and talked to me in private, an unusual occurrence. She barely saw us as we played outside. My own family didn’t abide silliness or jokes, but K’s mom, whose life revolved around her invalid husband, let us pretend to be horses as we ate our dinner in bowls on the floor. L’s mom baked cakes and gazed sideways at me. My mother, Lorna, had some autistic tendencies, so I thought she didn’t notice me with any of her five eyes.

Yet when I told her I had an application for grad school that also paid a stipend, she bugged me until I sent it off. I think she knew I would get it. Her insights about strangers surprised me, and her desire for me to get a “real job” pushed me to develop my artistic talents into careers that paid well.

I used to get SO irritated with my mom. The worst was when I was about eleven. Suddenly I didn’t like her voice, her smell, her hair, and her demands. Right now, I’d give my slice of the moon to get any part of her back. But we gotta make room for the babies, so all of us die.

I just read that a child’s cells are in a mother’s body forever. No wonder a mother has extra eyes and senses to help others along their paths.

In this lovely day of May, let me shout out Happy Mother’s Day to your mother. Salute!