Okay, so there you are… in the midst of having a fun experience when suddenly it occurs to you that this is much more special than you had anticipated. You start to take mental notes so that you won’t forget the details and then you start to savor every moment before it entirely slips through your fingers. Has that ever happened to you?
That very thing just happened to me this last weekend.
I had the pleasure of spending a couple of days with my three sisters and two cousins who were in from New Mexico. I am one of the youngest of a “super-giganto” family, so even though these are sisters and cousins, they are all pretty much a generation ahead of me. While I am fairly new to motherhood, they are all in their Grandmother phase. So I realized fairly quickly that there was a lot to be learned from these matriarchs.
Our mothers were sisters, so as I was looking around at these women while they were laughing and sharing, I realized that there was something almost tribal going on. The passing down of wisdom from generation to generation. A river that runs through one’s ancestry is undeniably powerful. I was suddenly, profoundly aware of the women who came before me and the women who came before them and so on and so on. Wow, what an amazing feeling. How lucky are we as women to have such a deep connection to all things past, present and future? We are the keepers of the love and the torch carriers for future generations.
Among this particular group of women alone they have experienced and survived breast cancer, cervical cancer, the recent loss of a spouse, the caring for and loss of parents, divorce, infertility, adoption… and the list goes on. I began to realize that as women, we are made to survive. To be strong in the face of fear and loss. Every day we have to question ourselves and wonder if we are doing the right thing and how our actions today will affect our children and then potentially their children and their children’s children. It’s such an overwhelming role to fill but these women do it with such grace and dignity.
So as the wine was poured, the stories were told and the tears were shed, I’m glad I paid attention. I could almost feel our Mothers present, Concha and Vina. They were probably sitting up there above us, on a cloud somewhere, crocheting an afghan and preparing a pot of frijoles. Smiling and finally realizing that all the worry and the strife was worth it. These beautiful women they had created were busy creating more beautiful women (and men) and the cycle of love will truly never come to an end.