Our recent showers have soaked the ground luxuriously.

Rains brought new growth and life, and also memories of earlier rainy days – and of my mom.

When I was 8, my mom took me from school in the middle of one rainy day. My brother was sick, so Mom, usually at work, took us on a drive through rain in a cozy, warm bubble of security, to the doctor’s office. 

Wipers thumped in rhythm while tires splashed through puddles. Steamy windows dripped with squiggly drops as the heater hummed. I felt safe and snug in the back seat because my mom was with us.

Rainy days always make me remember that one day – and the feeling of safety and warmth while trees swayed outside the car windows. People deep in parkas scurried for shelter along puddly sidewalks; umbrellas flipped inside out.

We, though, were safe and warm in the car with Mom.

This is the first Mother’s Day I will spend without my mother, and the rain brings back blurry memories.

One is of rain bonnets.

Rain bonnets are those clear, plastic, scarf-like hats you sometimes see older women wearing during rainy weather.

When I was little, before walking to school in the rain, Mom would place a rain bonnet on my head and tie the plastic ties into a bow under my chin.

The plastic ties would sort of scratch, but the bonnet would fit securely only if Mom tied the bow tightly.

The bonnets kept out most of the rain. They sported a little visor flap in front to keep rain from running down your face, and they extended in back so that most of your hair stayed pretty dry.

It was clear plastic, so you could see ahead, even if the visor flap was over your eyes.

When Mom tied the bonnet on my little head, she did it with great love and care. I knew she was trying to protect me from the elements, but in her loving gestures – the pat on the head, the kiss on the cheek – I knew she was trying to protect me from much more.

Moms do that. More than anything else, moms want their little ones to be safe, to go out and explore the world through a crystal-clear visor, but to be safe and warm as they do.

Moms want their children to be protected from harsh winds of ugliness that will come their way: insults, unfair criticism, prejudice, mistreatment.

They want the cold, wet drips of rejection, regret and sorrow to remain on the outside layers of their lives and not seep into the core.

Moms tie the ties tightly, not to restrict movement but to keep the cold and wet of unhappiness away.

Before she died, Mom gave me a rain bonnet, and I’ve kept it in the hall closet, wondering if I’d ever use it. I hadn’t worn one since I was a little girl.

If I wore it, wouldn’t I look like an old woman?

When the recent rains came, and I saw the bonnet in my closet, I suddenly didn’t care if I looked like an old woman because, well, I was an old woman. Why not look like one?

I tied the bonnet under my chin, and I could almost feel my mother’s fingers helping me. I felt safe, warm and snug.

Despite 40 mph winds and pelting rain, my hair was dry when I re-entered the house.

Sunday won’t be as hard a Mother’s Day as it could be – as long as it rains.

Donna Marmorstein lives and writes in Aberdeen. Email dkmarmorstein@yahoo.com.