My inspiration ...

I didn't train Wednesday at all. I received a call from my talent agent late Tuesday evening telling me that I had to go to Toronto for a commercial audition. I've been trying to avoid that traveling back and forth to Toronto actor thing for the longest while. I tried it at the beginning of my career years back and didn't like and I didn't think I'd like it this time round either.

But I still went. Audition was ... um ... okay ... but how would I know?

Best part of the trip was making a special pit stop on the way back to Montreal. We were a mini-van full of hopeful actors, tired from the traveling and the stress of an audition in another town where we're not familiar with the faces nor the procedures. I asked everyone if we could pop in to see my sick mother but didn't expect them to all say yes, as I knew they were anxious to get back home.

I felt nervous while we fought our way through rush hour traffic to get uptown. I wanted and needed so much to see my mother but was afraid of what I would see. I had only called her after the audition to tell her of the surprise visit. She sounded happy that I would drop in, if only for a brief while.

We got to my mother's and I rang on the doorbell. I hadn't seen her since last year as my last attempt to visit in February resulted miserably in my horrible car accident. My mother answered the door and I saw her sweet little face smiling at me, so happy to see me. So funny, my mother is such a mother. She asked me how my neck was and asked me if I was alright, if I had money for food (she knows it's been difficult).

I told her I was fine. I looked at her bald little head from the chemotherapy, stroked her face and then took her in my arms and held her and told her how much I loved her. I apologized for not being to stay longer as I had come out with my actor friends and they were waiting for me.

We didn't have much time but chatted a bit. My mother happily showed me the information she had received from the hospital regarding her diabetes. It is a wonderful program where she is learning about her disease as well as learning how to manage it better with diet and proper monitoring. It made her feel good to be treated so well by the hospital folks as well as know that there there are people out there that really care and want to pay attention to her needs.

I saw a little stack of hats. All my mother's, to hide her little head when she went out. She explained each one to me ... this one was from my sister, but when it got wet, it got cold ... so she bought another one that would keep her head warm when it rained. Then she showed me a flowery sun hat. She didn't really like this one but it was inexpensive and comfortable to wear inside and out.

My mother was happy that some stubble was starting to grow back. She said she was ugly. I looked at her and told her that she will always be beautiful and that I loved her. I was all made-up wearing my long hair loose and also wearing 3" heels, feeling behomothic. I thought about my Ironman training and realized how striking the physical contrast was between us. How unfair it was. My mother and I used to be the same height when I was a teenager. Now with age and disease, she had gotten smaller and I could feel her frailty in my arms as I held her again. I wanted to give her some of my hair so she wouldn't feel so ugly. I wanted to carry her across the finish line with me at the Ironman, transferring some of my strength to her and wishing only that a miracle cure existed.

I told my mother that I would have to leave as it was a long drive back. I hugged her and told her again that she was beautiful and that I loved her. I told her I'd plan a trip out soon to see her and I would be able to stay longer. And then I said bye ... but then she did something that surprised me. She put on her little flowery hat and came outside with me, anxious to say hello to everyone.

I introduced everyone to my mother and with a wonderfully joyous face, she thanked them all in her broken English for allowing me to drop in on her. I hugged my mother and started crying again, and afterwards, N. came over to give me a hug and told me not to cry. I knew that my actor friends understood the importance of my visit. My mother waved to us from the front steps as we drove off, a sight that I had grown accustomed to seeing with every visit.

My mother is my inspiration and I am grateful for her existence and her love.