The 5th month of the calendar year arrives dressed in dichotomy. Individual days ping my memory bank with black hole debits and platinum credits, and create a sandstorm some years, that I can’t find my balance in until June.
Looking back to 1975- I chose the May birthstone, the ruby, for my high school class ring. My parents thought I should choose my own December birthstone, but I had long since done anything because my parents wanted me to. I adored the color but ended up hocking the ring, before leaving school and home, in an untimely manner, for unthought out reasons, with an unsavory sort. I would go on to graduate the following May, right on time, but ruby red ring-less. Debit-credit, two steps forward, one step back. Many years later I’d finalize my first and second divorces in May. I’d give birth to a healthy and beautiful baby girl one rosy May day and face the truth, break someone’s heart and leave a long term relationship on a certain charcoal May day. The following year I would meet the man I was sure didn’t exist, the man I’ve spent the last 15 years with. It was on a radiant May day that I dove heart first into the “getting serious” stage of our relationship and have not regretted one single moment since. My dear mother was born in May and on the 29th day of May, 2011, I knew in my heart that would be the last time I’d see her. She would die 6 weeks later. The magnolias in my yard bloom each May as Mother’s Day arrives wrapped in melancholy. The school year draws to a close on May 23rd this year, with my heartstrings pulled and nerves frayed once again.
May is silky and barbed, honeysuckle and ash.
While this essay was prompted by sadness surrounding missing my mother, May is simply May, and like life, brilliantly shiny some days and years, and thickly tarnished others.
Peace and Love