Mothers and jackhammers

I woke up Saturday morning thinking of my mother.

Growing up, my parents had very different methods of waking up their children. Dad would quietly walk downstairs, sit on the edge of my bed, and rub my back. “Up and at ‘em,” he’d say gently. “I made you breakfast. Come on upstairs when you’re ready.” 

Mom, on the other hand, would swing the door open, turn on the lights, and open the blinds, letting the horrible light of sunrise shoot through to burn her daughter’s eyelids and make her cry out in unspeakable agony.  “Wake up! You’re going to be late!” she would say matter-of-factly, then list off all the chores I had already shirked on now that it was 6 a.m.  If I took too long, she’d promptly start vacuuming my bedroom. 

Likely, then, my mother would approve of the manner in which we’ve been awakened for the last two weeks.  Our morning begins with the repetitious “beep…beep…beep” of a giant piece of machinery on the road outside, warming up for another loud day.  Soon a jackhammer is added to the chorus, and men in hardhats start yelling at each other, and another giant tractor roars past and drops something large on something very metal.  As if by voodoo, someone drills a hole in the ground and it magically feels like an equally large hole is being drilled into my head. 

And it matters not how much I moan in anguish or cover my ears with pillows or swear profusely (in my brain).  There is no way these guys are going to let me sleep in on a weekend morning.

It occurred to me that if my mom’s method of waking up her children can be represented by the most obnoxious road construction possible right outside my window, then dad’s method would be like a light lilac-scented breeze that floats into the house and kisses my face, carrying with it the sunshiny promise of a wonderful day.  Basically, I guess, like every other Saturday morning, when I choose to ignore the promise and roll back over and sleep for four more hours.

And that’s why Dad’s way never, ever, ever worked.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

Good morning, indeed.