[Editor’s note: To earn extra credit in his composition course at Northwest Community College, Oxford, Mississippi, student Parke Wales wrote the following essay.]
Each weekday, Mr. Reed, my English teacher, emails his students messages containing information that promotes learning, including a thought for the day. Recently, one of those thoughts impacted me in a special way: It helped me to see more clearly than ever before how important my mother is to me.
Made by Russian writer Leo Tolstoy, the quote states, “People are mistaken when they think they can safely address others without love. You can work with objects without love, but you cannot work with people without love. In the same way, as you cannot work with bees without being cautious, you cannot work with people without being mindful of their humanity. As it is with bees, it is with people: If you are not cautious with them, you harm both yourself and them. It cannot be otherwise, because mutual love is the major law of human existence.”
The more I thought about the quote, the more I realized that what Tolstoy calls mutual love requires one to give back in equal measure the love one receives from others.
While I’ve always loved my mother, my love for her was not equal to her love for me. Not long ago, something happened that changed my attitude forever toward the woman who brought me into this world and raised me.
In September of last year, I was spending the night with my brother Rob. He’s an Ole Miss student, and I attend Northwest Community College here in Oxford. We planned to leave early for a day of fishing. At three o’clock in the morning, the phone rang. It was Dad, calling from our home in Columbia, Tennessee.
“You boys get up here right away — your mother has suffered a massive heart attack,” he said.
The drive home was agonizing; we were terrified that we would arrive too late. Even worse, when we got to the hospital, we learned that Mom was in the Intensive Care Unit. Her situation was touch-and-go, and hospital personnel forewarned us that she might die at any moment.
For almost two days, we walked the floor, slept little, and prayed a lot. Finally, we got the good news: She would live. The relief was overwhelming. Never before have I cried so much; never before have I experienced such joy and thankfulness.
When we were allowed to enter her room, I saw my mother in a way that I’d never seen her before. Yes, she was weak and pale and barely conscious, but in my eyes she was the most beautiful person I had ever seen.
In time, Mom recovered and returned to her normal life. She also made some dramatic lifestyle changes; now, she eats right, exercises daily, and best of all, stopped smoking.
I’m so proud of her, and I’m equally proud of myself. As I learned from Tolstoy, mutual love is the major law of human existence. From now on, I will love my sweet mother as much as she loves me.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
