Ultimately, there are only two things your Mother wants you to give her: She wants a hug. A sincere hug. A tight sincere hug when she and you both are standing. Or are at eye level. It depends. Not one of those hugs where she’s seated down and you are standing up then you have to bend forward at an obtuse angle and her neck is craned so that your shoulder rubs her Adam’s apple and she’s almost choking on her own spittle. No, not those ones. That’s just awkward. And mean.
A tight and sincere hug at eye level.
She wants you to step back and hold her by the shoulders. She wants you to look straight into her eyes and hold her gaze as you speak.
Then she wants you to say, “Thank you. You are doing a swell job.”
You could go ahead and top that with a few more words. Or you need not. She already knows where you are going with this even if you may not say it.
Succinct. Zero doodling, zero fluff.
By my lights, everything else the pundits suggest you give your Mother – basketfuls of flowers, fruit and love, spa-day, spit and polish jewellery, the works – is merely a curlicue at the edge of this story.
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