Mother’s Day


Two sisters and mothers still at war

By Emma Palova

EW Emma’s Writings

Writer’s note:

This is part of the 200 Posts & beyond series

Today is a big day. As I write to  the morning chirping of the birds, I still have my feet wet from watering the flowers for my mother, for Mother’s Day. 

My dog Haryk passed in September of last year. So, I don’t have him anymore. It’s bizarre how many things have changed in one year. I’ve made a lot of posts since  April of last year. I had around 100 posts, now I am close to  300 posts.

Mistakes. Yes, tons of them. Success, too. I’ve established my company Emma Blogs, LLC in August of last year. I got my eyes fixed with Dr. Verdier.

It’s May 9th, it’s my birthday. I was born on the national holiday in former Czechoslovakia. On that day, the nation’s capital Prague, the mother of all cities, was freed from the Nazi occupation by the Soviet Army. That was the end of World War II.

Many years later, I was born in the wee hours at 4 a.m. to parents Ella & Vaclav Konecny. My mom woke up to the cracking noises of fireworks announcing the anniversary of the victory.

“I thought it was war again, but then I realized those were fireworks celebrating your birth,” she said to me this morning as she wished me a happy birthday. “The whole nation celebrated.”

Czech Capital Prague
Czech Capital Prague

Mom says that to me every year, as the nature too celebrates the awakening after long winter.

“The nature blossoms on your birthday,” she says. “You always had the day off and a parade.”

Birthday blossom
Birthday blossom

 

The above note is one of the many reasons why I dedicated the memoir “Greenwich Meridian where East meets west” to my mother.

 200 Posts & beyond

This post is inspired by Anton Chekhov’s “Three Sisters” and the constant friction that I have witnessed between sisters in this world.

Mom Ella & I
Mom Ella & I

Mom Ella and aunt Anna

As I watch people drop like flies around me, I realize how time is going by fast. I like the inscription on the clock in the living room, “Tempus fugit.” That’s why I bought that pendulum clock as one of the first things when I arrived on this continent in 1989 for $110. Not that I had that kind of money. I just wanted the clock so bad, that I probably borrowed money for it. It announces the time by boldly striking every full and half hour. My husband Ludek still has to wind it by hand much like the clock that the in-laws had at home in the old country.

“They probably wouldn’t even let us know if Anna’s dead,” mom said about her sister.

Well, I think she is right. There is probably no one left to let us know. That’s all part of the emigration package that I am writing about in the memoir “Greenwich Meridian.”

To be continued as part of the ongoing series 200 Posts & beyond

Copyright © 2015 story and photos by Emma Palova

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