I didn’t sleep last night. Really truly didn’t sleep. I was still wide-awake at 4:17 at which time I resolutely stopped watching the clock. I was awake by 6:45. The mosquito flying around my room was the most persistent, determined and agile bug I have ever, ever encountered. At 4AM, I decided maybe there was more than one. Maybe there were two. Or five. Or ten. But my bed was not littered with dead mosquito bodies when the room finally got light, so I’m thinking not — just one seriously hard-working little pest. I actually told it — yes, out loud — that I didn’t care if it bit me 100 times if it would just stop whining around my ear. It did not listen. I suppose mosquitoes don’t really speak English.

Anyway, Mother’s Day. I can’t remember last year’s Mother’s Day but I wish we’d done something special. I wish I’d bought my mother flowers and written her a sappy card and cooked her a fancy dinner. I don’t think I did. I told a therapist last summer that I didn’t think I’d have any regrets: my relationship with my mother was strong and loving and friendly. She was, in so many ways, my closest friend. She was the person I called when I felt good and when I felt bad, or when I needed advice about cooking or cleaning or health or shopping. She was the person I did things with — Saturday morning garage sales and shopping for clothes or shoes. I talked to her more often and about more than anyone else in my life. But we never did much to celebrate Mother’s Day. She knew I loved her and I knew she loved me. I think I felt — and I think she felt — that the way we lived was a regular recognition of how important and special our relationship was and that I didn’t need one day a year to tell her she was wonderful. But I do regret — so much — that I don’t have a special memory from last year to make this year more bearable.

My sister’s kids sent me chocolate-covered strawberries. My delightful son brought me tea in bed, and an omelet, and a bagel — not just one breakfast but two. Today, we’re going to see The Avengers together — it’s the first time, we’ve gone to a movie together since . . . ugh, I wanted to say years, but actually, we went to the movies together on the day my mom died. We needed a distraction. I suppose that’s what today’s movie is, too.

Today would probably be easier if I’d slept last night.