I recently read an article in a tattered copy of O magazine from the library that got me thinking. In the article, the author reminisced about her mother, a woman “unpretentious, without frills or tricks”. In particular the author wrote about her mother’s love of cooking and her expertise in the kitchen. The two had a bumpy relationship which was symbolised by the daughter’s inability to successfully recreate a fruit cake that her mother had often baked. The daughter resented that her mother had never taken the time to teach her to make the cake herself.
It wasn’t until after the mother had died and the daughter was making yet another attempt at the cake that she began to realise that the mother’s baking was “a way of giving us love”. The acts of preparing the ingredients, taking her time to make it just right were her way to express the feelings she couldn’t put into words. The daughter realised that her mother had not taught her not because she didn’t care for her, but because she was “too modest to think her expertise worth sharing”.
I began to wonder:
Do I appreciate how the day to day things I do affects my family? Do my family appreciate by my actions that I love them or should I verbalise it more?
It’s sometimes easy to fall into the “poor me” trap, moaning and groaning about all the things I have to do around the house and running around I do for my family. But what message does this send to them? I guess being negative might suggest that my family aren’t worth the effort. This is the last thing I would want them to think.
I know I get a bit cranky at The Thinker sometimes when he doesn’t realise that I iron his shirts or make special trips to the shops because I love him. It’s a bit like expecting him to be a mind reader I suppose.
So from now on, I’m going to make sure I take the time to show and tell my family how much I love and appreciate them each day. I don’t want them to have to wait till on dead and gone before they figure it out!