We went for an early morning walk last Sunday.
It was Mother’s Day, and the streets were full of people carrying flowers. Small stands had appeared along the sidewalks overnight, selling bouquets and arrangements in every color imaginable.
There was a festive feeling in the air.
A feeling of love, gratitude, and devotion.
Mothers clutching fresh flowers. Children proudly carrying bouquets. Families gathering together.
It felt beautiful and familiar, even in a country not originally my own.
My mother, Sharon, passed away about 20 years ago.
Judi’s mom—also Sharon—has been gone for around 13 years.
As we continue discovering the culture, music, flowers, food, and beauty of Mexico, Judi and I often find ourselves saying things like:
“My mom would have loved this.” or: “I wish she could have seen this place.”
I think I had a special relationship with my mother.
As a teenager, I was often insecure, awkward, and unhappy. Acne and unpopularity felt like giant problems at the time.
My mother had a way of pulling me toward beauty and creativity instead of letting me disappear into all that adolescent misery.
She introduced us to music of every kind—especially musical theater. Rodgers and Hammerstein records filled our house alongside classical music, pop albums, and music from all over the world.
My dad played saxophone and clarinet in a swing band, and both my parents loved singing in church choirs. Music was simply part of life.
Every few months, my mother would drive me to Spokane or Wenatchee to see a dermatologist because our hometown of Moses Lake was too small to have one.
Those trips became something more than medical appointments.
She always made them special.
We would eat somewhere good, wander through stores, or do something fun together. Looking back, I realize she was quietly helping me survive those difficult teenage years.
My mom loved flowers, nature, travel, art, and people.
She was interested in everything.
And everyone.
She encouraged my endless hobbies and creative distractions, many of which still shape my interests today.
A lot of what I love about life traces back to her influence.
I met Judi’s mom at Rick’s College in Idaho not long after Judi and I became serious.
She had already lived through a lot by then.
Judi was her only child, and together they had weathered many difficult experiences.
Over the years, I often found myself amazed at the kind, resilient, and loving person Judi became despite some very hard circumstances.
A great deal of that credit belongs to her mother.
And I will always be grateful to her for that.
I miss them both.
Sometimes I wish I could still buy them flowers.
Maybe even a bright Mexican bouquet from a roadside stand on Mother’s Day morning.
Living here has made me appreciate even more how closely families remain connected in Mexican culture.
Parents and grandparents are honored openly and affectionately.
You can feel it in the streets, the gatherings, the celebrations, and the traditions.
And this past Sunday, surrounded by flowers and families, I found myself thinking about two women named Sharon who helped shape the lives Judi and I now share together.
Happy belated Mother’s Day to the two most important Sharons in my life.
— Kent
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