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Cinderella:
Mother’s Day wasn’t much different from any other day for Cinderella. She woke up earlier than the rest of her family to make breakfast and do her morning chores. After her family woke, she served them breakfast, gave her stepmother a kiss on the cheek and wished her a happy Mother’s Day at the behest of her father, and afterwards, ate a breakfast of her family’s leftovers and went back upstairs to dress for church. At church Cinderella sat silently on the uncomfortable pew as her stepsisters whispered and giggled next to her, and she tried not to feel envious of everyone there who had a mother who was alive and loving. After the service, everyone in the congregation was given a rose to give to their mother. Cinderella reluctantly but pleasantly took the rose and gave it to her stepmother, which was received carelessly to be thrown out of the carriage on the way home. But one of the deacons, who had known her mother when she was alive, quietly slipped her a second rose. Cinderella gratefully took it and slipped it into her apron pocket. She kept the rose in her pocket for the rest of the day. It remained there while she prepared and served lunch, while she did her afternoon chores, while she made the large supper that her stepmother always demanded on Mother’s Day, and while she ate it with her family, the only day a year besides Christmas that she was allowed to eat with her family rather than serve them. Later, after her family went to bed, and she was sure they were all asleep, Cinderella quietly dressed and then climbed out of her bedroom window and descended the tree just outside the window. Once she reached the ground, she took off running towards the woods and didn’t stop until she reached her mother’s grave. Once she reached the hazel tree which she had planted in that spot years ago after her mother died, she fell to her knees, took the rose out of her pocket and placed it at the foot of the tree. She then spent the next several hours alone in the cold, damp darkness. Finally, for the first time all day, she was allowed a moment to mourn her mother, she had not cried in front of anyone since her father remarried, so her time at the hazel tree was precious to her, the only time that she allowed herself to fully let her emotions out without having to hold back anything. After several hours, when it was well after midnight. Cinderella stood up, wiped away her tears, and walked back home where she climbed back up the tree and into her bedroom, she undressed and got into bed to get at least a few hours of sleep before she had to get up in the morning for another day of labor.
The Baker and his Wife:
Every Mother’s Day the baker’s wife took ill. This was a well-known, though unacknowledged fact among everyone in the village. It was also a known but unacknowledged fact that she was not really sick. Everyone knew why this was, but everyone politely ignored it. Every year on Mother’s Day the baker woke his wife, whose eyes were red and bleary from a restless night, and asked her if she felt like going to church that day. Every year she said no. A little while later he would bring her a pastry and a cup of coffee and try to convince her to eat. She never ate but sometimes she could be coaxed to have a few sips of coffee. After his wife went back to sleep, the baker would slip out of the house and walk through the village which was quiet and empty with everyone at home spending time with their mothers. He walked down to the small cemetery next to the church. Once he arrived, he went over to where his mother was buried and knelt down by the simple grave marker. He took just a few moments to sit with his mother and grieve. Grieve for the mother he had never gotten to know because he was so little when she died, grieve for the life that he and his wife had dreamed of since they married and was now looking more and more like an unachievable fantasy. He imagined a world in which Mother’s Day did not have to be such a sad day for him and his wife, a Mother’s Day when they finally had their much-desired baby, and he hoped that maybe that dream wasn’t so far out of reach as it seemed. Then, before he allowed himself to become too lost in the pain, he stood back up, wiped away his tears and went back home.
The baker’s wife woke up before her husband returned. She knew where he went every year on this day, but she never said anything about it. She thought it best to let his yearly ritual remain private. While her husband was out, she sat by the fire and cried quietly to herself wishing that this horrible pain, which had cursed them since they were first married, might soon end. After a while the baker returned and began making the breads and the pastries for the next day. The rest of the day passed in silence, neither husband nor wife wanting to acknowledge the pain brought by this day. For dinner the couple had leftover stew from the previous day, neither of them felt like making dinner, and it was over dinner that the baker asked his wife
“Are you okay? Really okay?”
His wife hesitated, trying to decide how to respond. “It’s nothing it’s just—" she hesitated again, “Every year I hope that it will be the last Mother’s Day that I’ll have to suffer like this and every year I’m wrong. I’m starting to lose hope that we’ll ever have a baby.”
The baker didn’t know how to respond, he had never been good with words, so he just got up and went over to his wife, putting his arm around her and allowing her to cry on his shoulder. They remained like that for some time and afterwards neither felt like finishing their dinner, so they cleaned up and went to bed early. The baker’s wife fell asleep immediately, exhausted from the emotionally draining day. Her husband though, stayed up for a while, unable to go to sleep. All he could do was pray, once again, that maybe this time next year they would finally be parents.
Jack and His Mother:
Every year without fail Jack forgot Mother’s Day. His mother never expected him to remember anymore, but every year there was a little sliver of hope that this year her son might have matured enough to remember without being told. It never was. The boy woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast, and did his morning chores like any other day. Then Jack and his mother headed off to church. At church the priest wished all the mothers a happy Mother’s Day and Jack’s eyes went wide and his face went pale as he finally realized what day it was and that he had forgotten once again. After the service finished Jack told his mother happy Mother’s Day and profusely apologized for forgetting. Of course, his mother reassured him that she didn’t mind at all his forgetting, she knew he loved her and she didn’t need a holiday to know that. It was true of course, Jack’s forgetfulness did not stem from malice or a lack of caring, he was just oblivious and unobservant by nature. But it did upset her a bit that he never remembered, not just because she did feel just a tad bit unappreciated sometimes, but also because she knew that her boy would one day soon have to face a cruel, hard world and his innocent, trusting nature just was not suited to it. To Jack’s credit he spent the rest of the day trying to make up for his forgetting. He did all of his chores without being asked and even took over some of his mother’s chores too. He picked a fresh bouquet of flowers from their yard which his mother gratefully accepted and displayed in a cracked vase on the table. That night while Jack slept his mother stayed up to tend the fire. She Watched her son as he slept, snoring loudly with his mouth hung open and his long limbs hanging over the side of his small cot on the floor. She couldn’t help but be reminded of when he was just a little baby, back when his father was still around and it looked as though he may have had a future ahead of him. As much as she may wish that her son would grow up a little bit and become more mature, there was also a part of her that wished that he didn’t have to. Really, he was still just a child, he deserved to have a few more years of innocence. He deserved to dream, not to struggle every day just so that they wouldn’t starve. All she could do was hope that maybe one day their situation would be better. Quietly, the mother crept over to her son and gently kissed him on his forehead gently whispering “Goodnight son, I love you.”
Little Red Riding Hood
Every year on Mother’s Day, Little Red had to wake up early in the morning and help her mother pack a picnic lunch to bring to granny’s house. Normally Little Red would hate to wake up early but today she didn’t mind, she always liked to see her grandmother and their Mother’s Day picnic in the meadow was always lots of fun. Once they finished packing their lunch, Little Red and her mother set out into the woods to see granny. Little Red was walking ahead of her mother down the path while munching on one of the hand pies that mother had bought from the baker yesterday, when she saw a small baby bunny just off the path. Before she could even consciously decide to do so, her instinct to pet small, fluffy animals took over and she was darting off the path towards the bunny. Just when she had almost reached the bunny, she heard her mother call out to her
“Come back here darling!”
The bunny had now scampered away from her and out of her sight. Little Red sighed and sulked back to her mother.
“Always stay on the path dear, there’s wolves in these woods. Nothing good will come from straying.”
“Alright mother.”
Little Red and her mother continued down the path and on toward grandmother’s house. As soon as they reached the small cottage in the middle of the woods Little Red took off running towards her granny who was standing by the door waving to them. After the family greeted each other, they headed out to the nearby meadow for their picnic. It was a perfect day for a picnic, the weather was warm and pleasant and all the flowers were in bloom. Little Red and her mother and grandmother had a delicious lunch of fresh bread, lunch meat, berries, and cheese, with lemonade to drink. They would have had blueberry hand pies for dessert, but Little Red had eaten all but one of them on the walk there. Mother insisted that they let granny have the last pie, though when she wasn’t looking, the old woman discreetly slipped a little piece to her granddaughter. After their picnic, the three went back to the cottage where mother helped granny with some of the chores that were getting harder for her to do now that she was getting older. Meanwhile, her grandmother took Little Red onto her lap and told her stories of monsters, and dragons, and wolves. The little girl listened eagerly as she soaked in the excitement, drama, suspense, and fear of the tales.
“Why must you always tell her scary stories? You’ll frighten the girl.” Little Red’s mother said from across the room where she was dusting the cabinets.
“They don’t frighten me! I like scary stories; nice stories are boring.” Little Red argued.
Granny smiled knowingly at her granddaughter and said, “You’re a brave girl dear, knowing how to be brave about scary stories will prepare you to be brave in life.”
A little while later all three of them ate an early dinner so that Little Red and her mother could make it home before dark, and once they finished cleaning up from the meal, mother and daughter set off down the path once again towards home while granny waved to them from the doorway until they were out of sight.
Rapunzel and the Witch:
Rapunzel spent most of Mother’s Day, as she did any other day, alone. She went through her morning routine, wake up, dress, eat some fruit and drink some tea for breakfast, brush and braid her hair, do her morning chores, the same as any other day. By then it was noon and she ate a small lunch and then, having nothing else to do until mother came, tried to keep herself busy throughout the afternoon. She sat on her windowsill, staring out into the wilderness of the woods and sang to herself. The hours passed slowly but finally she heard the call from the base of the tower.
“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair to me!”
Rapunzel tossed her hair out the window allowing her mother to grab hold and climb up the side of the tower. Once she reached the top Rapunzel kissed her mother on the cheek and wished her a happy Mother’s Day, her mother returned the greeting and an awkward silence fell over the two. It was always awkward now, now that Rapunzel was older and beginning to crave freedom and a life outside of the tower. When mother and daughter sat down for dinner Rapunzel decided to broach the topic again.
“Mother… I know that you don’t want me to leave, but I was thinking that maybe if you went with me, it would be okay. Even if we just went for a walk in the forest—”
“Rapunzel!” The witch shouted, abruptly cutting off her daughter. “The world is dangerous and the woods are not any less so, this is the last I will hear about the topic. You’re better off in here.”
Rapunzel nodded. “Of course mother, I’m sorry.”
The rest of the evening passed in silence and that night Rapunzel lay awake in bed unable to fall asleep. If the world was truly as horrible as her mother said, why did she want so badly to experience it? It was safer here, where she didn’t have to worry about all the evil people who might hurt her, maybe even kill her, but was this really living? Sitting in her tower just trying to pass the time every day for the rest of her life until she died? That thought mingled in Rapunzel’s mind as it often had since she was about twelve or thirteen when she first became aware that her life was not a normal one. The thought that it would be better if she just died right now. After all, all her life was just passing time waiting for each long torturous day to end. Why shouldn’t her whole life just end now and be done with. She had thought about taking matters into her own hands, ending things herself, but she couldn’t do that to mother. As much as she couldn’t bear to live it would be worse to cause mother pain. So, like every other night, Rapunzel closed her eyes and went to sleep, hoping vaguely in the back of her mind that maybe this time she wouldn’t wake in the morning.