Mother's Day is an annual wake up call for me. It requires me to spend a great deal of time on Amazon mulling through various items while simultaneously dealing with profound guilt.
I live 3000 miles opposite my mother. I am not a warm, devoted daughter. I've doled out my fair share of impolite quips, unsympathetic lectures and aggressive narcissist hyperbole.
This is not the first year the holiday falls during a period in which mother will not answer my daily phone call. Radio silence is in its second month. It began with a heated exchange on the social responsibility of nutrition.
So, what do I send this year?
From the brainstorm:
A John Grisham novel. Paperback. Costco. Maybe Nora Roberts. I know she will use that.
Sometimes I build a package myself and bring it to the post office. Because of all that effort and the $10 it takes to ship, those boxes tend to be disappointing.
Once I sent flowers. That seems boring. And they die.
Another time I sent Clif Bars and a DVD. That was a bold move. She liked the bars. Hmmm.
My most successful gift was the classic hand written letter. This years would not stand up to any of the archived issues.
Food (in general delivered via Stop & Shop)
Jack Bauer's 24 on DVD
Some sort of Bible
But today I will purchase a book on nutrition. The topic she was so inflamed by. Maybe without me distracting, the information will reach her.
I'll add a second book to the order. Ishmael. Maybe that'll make her smile.