My mother, the most frustrating person alive.

Her daughters’ tractor warnings illicit the ol’ “grin and nod”…yet inevitably fall on deaf ears,

for a quick glance out any window, always, without fail, confirms our rather wasted fears. 

A master of humoring, while simultaneously thinking, “oh, if they only knew;”

you see, Jackie Turner does whatever Jackie Turner wants to do. 

A woman whose compassion is rivaled only by an unfathomable energy and fiery zeal;

a woman whose generosity is without motive, whose strength, tangibly real.

Bruised ribs and a pulled groin couldn’t get her off the mower the very next day.

But, she will stop mid-supper when a certain little girl exclaims, “Nonna, lets go play.”

As frustrating as this abandon can occasionally be, I know my mother no other way.

She will insist on single-handedly painting sheds…when not throwing or hauling hay.

She will check on her one grandkid and her 624 granddogs and cats….

and do so without exasperated huff, purposeful sigh, or call to ask where we’re at. 

You see, if ever there were a stride-taker, my mother is it;

the woman who moves mountains, the woman who rarely, if ever, sits. 

If we are lucky, we will one day find ourselves as strong-willed and foolishly obstinate as she…

and drive our own kids crazy until they finally shrug and respectfully say, “oh, just let her be.”

Happy Mother's Day, Mom.  We love you.