The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


Like Mother, Like Daughter

“We’re putting on a play and I’m a tree!”

My mother sounded like a child in her first school play. Her friends and family had been pushing her to go to the Thursday afternoon Yiddish theatre tryouts for a year. This week, she finally went and to her delight, she was given a part in the performance they were planning; a Yiddish translation of Goldilocks. My high school English teacher, who was once a basketball player, is donning a blonde wig and playing Goldie. Some of her friends are in the group and it was the sort of thing she liked to do. Mom is not a card player or a shopper, but more of a literary, lecture going, book-reading type.

My father died last year.

We had the unveiling a few weeks ago and I keep wondering if this is why my mother finally let herself go to the Yiddish club. The rules of mourning in Judaism have time restrictions for the survivors. One week of shiva, sitting at home, one month of limited social activity and one year before dating or starting anything new. It’s been a year and maybe that’s why she feels she can be part of this now.

Before kids (BK) I was an artist of sorts. Not the kind that makes a living from her art, but I was serious about engaging in creativity. It was a major part of how I identified myself and what sustained me in this crazy world.

I could not keep up my potting and writing while holding a job and raising kids. I had to make choices and prioritize. Now that the children are older and the focus of caring for my parents around my father’s illness is past, I have been able to come back to myself. The timing has been exactly right for this return to a part of me that was put aside so I could do things for others.

Now it is my turn.

It might be the same for my mother. Before she got married she was involved in a theatre group and wrote poetry. That was sixty years ago. Perhaps she, like me, is finally able to go back to a part of herself that she put aside so very long ago so that she could put others before her own needs.

Now it is her turn

By Gloria Saltzman


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