I Had Three Mamas

I remember having three mamas, and they all were very different. 

My first mama was a big woman.  She was powerful and could out arm-wrestle her three boys.  She was a very hard worker, but never complained.

I loved this mama, for she was gentle, soft-spoken and a wonderful cook.  She always smiled at me even when she was tired.  This was my favorite mama.

One day I looked Mama in the eyes and did not have to raise my head to do so.  Mama looked smaller--not so powerful and she looked like an ordinary middle-aged woman.  Her hair was beginning to turn gray, and I noticed that her answers weren’t as sharp as they used to be. 

I liked this mama, but the deep respect and admiration that I had had for her was gone.  Maybe it was because I had grown and was almost a man.  Maybe it was because Mama wasn’t as educated or knew as much about math and science as I did.

Many years went by—I had married, become a daddy to three children and enjoyed a wonderful career.  The grandchildren came, they grew up, and made me proud of them. 

It happened at one of my rare visits that I noticed a brand new mama. 

Somehow Mama seemed shorter, thinner and grayer.  Her skin was more wrinkled and her speech slower.  This mama was only a shell of my first vibrant and dynamic mama.  She misplaced things and didn’t put on makeup.  Her clothes seemed wrinkled and she did not cook her great chicken soup.