mothers and sons


I watched about two hours’ worth of the Oscar broadcast last night and taped the rest to watch at leisure. The nights are much too active around here for me to justify staying up till midnight to watch an awards show about movies I’ve never seen.

Luckily I was still awake for the Best Supporting Actor presentation, and not only because Javier Bardem looks gorgeous (especially having outgrown the Prince Valiant hairstyle). Actually, the best part of Javier Bardem’s win was his mother.

It would have been enough that his mother was his date. It would even have been enough that he thanked her ardently, saying in Spanish: “Mom, this is for you, for your grandparents, for your parents Rafael and Matilde, for the comedians of Spain who, like you, have brought dignity and pride to our profession. This is for Spain and this is for all of us.” (Not my translation, but it seems plausible.)

But what really fed my mama soul was the look she gave him. If you don’t have kids, you might have missed it. If you do have kids, there was no mistaking it. He rejoined his mother Pilar, herself a respected Spanish actor, and gave her a kiss. Then there passed between them a moment of sheer love. She looked at him with such an open heart, an open soul…and I recognized it. That thing only a mother could feel and know, the recollection and reclamation of the miracle of being a mother.


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