My mom and I celebrated Mother's Day by sneaking off to a movie, just the two of us. Will stayed home with Kirk, who had plans with his own mother, and the two of us drove to the teensy Sharon Cinemas and bought two $4 tickets to Fever Pitch.
I hadn't seen a movie in the theater since before I found out I was pregnant. As a point of reference, Will will be 18 months old next week. It's been a long time. Long enough that I was surprised by the litany of advertisements at the beginning before the trailers, although that may also have been our choice of theaters. It was a good way to break back into the world of movie viewing, though. Fluffy enough that I got to just relax, heartwarming enough that I had one or two eyes-filled-with-tears moments, with characters I cared about, too. And then there was the whole Red Sox factor. My mom was out-of-her-mind excited to relive last season along with the movie. It was cool, too, to think that people in all parts of the country are seeing OUR city on their big screens. I'm just goofy enough to think that way.
After the movie, we first stopped at Alice's, the Chinese place down the street from the theater, for some House Special Brown Fried Rice, but I think every single family in Sharon decided to feed their moms with Alice's cooking, so instead we ventured to Bertucci's, where we shared some mozzarella fritta and lasagna, and toasted with glasses of chianti (mine) and pinot grigio (hers) to eachother and mother's day and the women we love who round out our lives.
I miss my grandmother horribly, though I know my level of missing her doesn't even remotely approach my mom's level of missing her. When I think about it for too long, I'm truly stunned and deeply saddened at the reality that Will will never know my Nana, or my grandfather, or David, either. These people who were--ARE--such a huge part of my development and my life will never directly be a part of his.
These are sad thoughts, though, and a recollection of a wonderful day shouldn't be overtaken with sad thoughts. I'll leave it, then, with an image of Will toddling over to my chair, climbing with a little help into my lap, and wrapping his arms tightly around my neck, his legs around my torso, and happily murmuring "mama" into my ear. These are the things that make my life worthwhile. Happy Mother's Day to me.