by Marvin Ramírez
Year after year, May presents itself as a vibrant month in the Hispanic world, charged with meaning and emotions. It not only heralds the change of season—spring or autumn, depending on the hemisphere—but also a season rich in celebrations that honor both the dignity of labor and the purest love: that of a mother.
The first obligatory stop this month is May 1st, International Workers’ Day. This date, adopted by most countries around the world, commemorates the labor struggles of the 19th century, especially those in Chicago, which paradoxically is not celebrated in the United States—the birthplace of those strikes—but is celebrated throughout virtually all of Latin America. It is a day of reflection on the rights won, the battles still pending, and the challenges posed by decent work amid precarious economies and political crises.
However, May is not only about union struggle and commemoration. It is also, profoundly, Mother’s Day. Although the calendar varies from country to country, the sentiment is universal. Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala, and the United States celebrate on May 10. Other countries such as Colombia, Venezuela, Peru, Chile, Ecuador, Honduras, and Puerto Rico celebrate on the second Sunday of the month. In Bolivia, it is May 27, and in Nicaragua, on the 30th.
No matter the exact date, Mother’s Day is an emotional and social milestone. Florists are filled with color, restaurants are filled with reservations, and calls and messages multiply. The streets are decorated with public tributes, and social media is flooded with photographs and dedications. The informal economy finds a temporary boost, and remittances increase: children who migrated, those who crossed borders in search of a future, send something more than money. In these transfers, there are tears, nostalgia, absences, unfulfilled promises, and, above all, love.
The mother, in the heart of the migrant, is not just a symbol: she is a wound and a beacon. Many have left, leaving behind the women who raised them amidst hardship, sacrifice, and tenderness. The “little mothers,” as they are affectionately called, are still there, in their homeland, waiting for calls, visits, or simply reminiscing. It’s common for emotions to run riot around this time. Those close by celebrate with hugs. Those far away do so in silence, in intimate vigil, repeating phrases held in their hearts. And those who no longer have their mothers light an inner candle and feel them alive in their memories.
This blend of the collective and the intimate is what makes May such a special month. It reminds us that we are social beings, but also deeply familial. It connects us with the great ideals of fair work and also with the tenderness of a lunch made with love. It forces us to look both to the future and the past: to the future we dream of building with decent work and to the past that shaped us from a mother’s lap.
But beyond sales figures, peak international calls, or floral tributes, these dates invite us to a fundamental gesture: gratitude. Gratitude toward those who have worked for our rights. Gratitude toward those who gave us life. Gratitude toward those who, without asking for anything, have given everything.
May this month of May not pass as just a succession of dates marked on the calendar. May it become a time for reflection, for human connection, for recognition of the sacrifice of others. Because work dignifies, but it also exhausts. Because maternal love sustains, but it also hurts. And because, deep down, we all carry similar stories: of struggle, of migration, of distance, of love.
May those who have the privilege of embracing their mothers do so with awareness. And may those who can only remember them do so with peace. Because May, in the end, is the month where memory blossoms.
