Missing My People On Mother's Day

Writing from Spain.

Image created via Midjourney

It's Mother's Day and I'm in sitting in a coffee shop in Girona, Spain, thousands of miles away from my kids.

When I booked this trip, months ago, I didn't realize it was Mother's Day weekend. I was trying to plan around other things, like the high school musical performances last weekend (my oldest was part of the tech crew) and my middle child's performance in the district fine arts festival next weekend. I was trying to make sure I was there for my kids... and in doing so, I inadvertently scheduled time away when I need them.

Every year, I ask for time alone on Mother's Day. We go out to brunch the day before, or sometimes the weekend before. And I spend the time alone – in my office, taking a nap, something else. But I still see my kids early in the morning, give them hugs. Or they'll pop their heads in and ask me something throughout the day. I'm never entirely alone.

I'm not entirely alone today either - I'm traveling with a friend - but I'm away from my family. I knew it would be hard, but didn't realize my heart would ache so much.

I'm writing this while sitting in a coffee shop. My friend went for a walk. I'm the only person sitting alone. Everyone else is either part of a couple or here with a group. A solitary tear ran down my cheek, which I quickly wiped away.

I've wanted to travel to Europe for years. And traveling with a friend was a wonderful decision. When I travel with my family, it's a lot of work and a lot of planning. My friend and I had a few things planned, but it's been very go-with-the-flow.

Yet I've also thought, many times, "I wish my family were here."