This is to mother you

This weekend was an unexpected delight. At first, I was tempted to cancel our plans to attend an English retreat at the villa in Takebe with a dozen Japanese strangers over the age of 50. (hell, wouldn't you be?)
I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, moan, gag and generally feel sorry for myself. Had I done that, I would probably be posting another sad lament for my out-of-control body. Good thing for us all I dragged my ass out of bed, packed a bag of crackers and put on a smile.
After a quiet drive through the countryside, we arrived in the lush and hilly village of Takebe. We were met at the villa by a dozen women, buzzing like bees around the kitchen. They immediately pounced on us, beaming with motherly affection and eager to wait on me like royalty. They were so warm and friendly, even when they were forcing me to eat, piling a multitude of plates in front of me with foods "for my health". I politely obliged, pushing myself to my limits. They watched me carefully, brought me juice when they thought I was thirsty, rubbed my belly, taught me lullabies in Japanese and ultimately put me to bed when they thought I should sleep. They moved me deeply and I must have needed a little mothering like that. Firm mothering, not taking no for an answer, the "Don't argue, we know what's best" kind of mothering. I was in their hands and I felt cared for, loved by these kind strangers.
I don't even know their names, but the warmth these women wrapped around me will help carry me through the coming difficult weeks.