Cesar Vallejo is the greatest poet to have come out of Peru in the twentieth century, perhaps all of Latin America. The youngest of the eleven children, Vallejo was very close to his family and his mother in particular. It was her nurturing spirit early on and later her friendship that provided him with a sustaining force until her death.
As a child, he sensed the great power his mother possessed. In his poem “Good Sense” he writes,
My mother turns up the collar of my overcoat, not because it is beginning to snow, but so it can begin to snow.
In childish wonder, Vallejo once believed the weather depended on the actions of his mother. Even the simple action of adjusting the collar of his winter coat seemed to be endowed with supernatural qualities.
I know what he means. Looking back on my childhood, I am amazed at what my mother was able to do. There was the time that I hit Mackenzie in the head with a rock, and he needed stitches, and my mother was all alone with four boys and managed somehow to take him to the doctor and get him patched up. Then there was the time Mackenzie ran into a post and needed stitches, and Mom had to take him to a clinic so that he could get the wound sewed up. Then there was the time Barton hit Mackenzie in the face with a baseball bat, and this same mother, who was getting tired of paying doctors’ bills, loaded up her four boys into the minivan so that she could take this poor kid to the emergency room.
I may be exaggerating the extent of Mackenzie’s injuries a bit, and surely Dad was around on at least one of these occasions, but the combination of ingenuity, courage, efficiency, strength, wisdom, protection and fierce love these incidents demonstrate is true.
Mothers find a way to do the impossible for the sake of their children. If you were blessed to have a good mother, thank God for putting her in your life. If she is still with you, call her and let her know that you appreciate what she has done and continues to do to support you.