Mothers come in all shapes, sizes and disguises. We don’t get to choose our Mother and sometimes we have to make adjustments and work the best we can with what we are given. However, along the way, if we open our hearts, we are blessedly provided with alternatives. I was fortunate to have a few. I had a very loving “Little Nonna”and I had a hard-working Grandmother.  But the Mother that had the most impact on my life was my sweet Mother-in-law.

My husband and I met in grade school and began dating as teenagers. I enjoyed many Sunday meals with my future in-laws. My Mother-in-law was a great, intuitive cook and during my teenage years I was fortunate to learn a few things from her. Also she became my fiercest defender early on. However, it was the two years before Charlie and I married that I benefited the most.  While he was in Maryland working for Westinghouse, I would spend every Wednesday with my in-laws having dinner.  My father-in-law was a day laborer, so his hours depended on the weather.  He could come home anywhere between 5 and 8. I would arrive at their home right after work and my Mother-in-law who I affectionately called Momma would be cooking.  So, I had the advantage of cooking lessons.  If the cooked meal was close to being done and the table was set, Momma and I would lean out the window of their 3^rd floor flat on 48^th street, with our arms resting on the sill and she would tell me stories of growing up in Sicily, her attempts to come to the United States and her early life adjusting to a new world and then marrying and raising children. This was miraculous as my Italian was limited and Momma’s dialect was Sicilian. As soon as we saw my Father-in-law turn the corner onto 48^th Street all talking stopped and we returned to the stove and cooking.  It was rigidly performed so that after he entered the apartment, cleaned up and sat down his dinner was set in front of him. We finished any discussion left at the windowsill while doing the dishes.

Those were beautiful times and we lost her much too soon.  Our children didn’t get to know her as a grandmother and hear her stories which is sad because I did see her caring interactions with her older grandchildren. However, I am grateful for the time I did have with her, the stories and the wisdom she shared and the patience she had with me.  I had cooking lessons, I learned how to be a loving mother and nurturing grandmother and I think I learned how to be a good mother-in-law and above all the wife she wanted for her son. 

My mother was of a different nature. But along the way there were a few lessons learned there, too.

So, to all the Mothers in my life, I thank you for lessons learned, encouragement and affection.  To honor you, I’m trying my best to pass these gifts on to my children and grandchildren.

But, as I do so, I also learned (with a heap of patience) this from another Mother too.