Not a day goes by that I don't think of Mom. I guess that's "improvement" from where I was a while ago, at "not an hour goes by that I don't think of Mom." I have discovered that when I was in the "not an hour" phase, the missing was an ache, a pain that usually brought me close to tears. Now that I have "graduated" to the "not a day" phase, my thought of Mom give me more comfort than sadness, more smiles than grief.
How blessed I was to have her for my mother.
This afternoon as Michael sat at the counter doing his homework, I was in the kitchen baking cookies. And just like that, I was back...back at the counter at 1409--the 1970's aqua-colored formica counter with the ceramic square superglued to it to hide the absence-of-formica where I had let the iron warm up face down (oops!) when I was trying to be bigger than I really was. I was back on the dark wood stool that I still sit on whenever I am at my potter's wheel--because I cut the legs down to make it a just-right height since your Decatur house doesn't have a counter. I was back with you there, in the kitchen, asking me about my day and making a snack for me.
If I could sit down at the counter now, with you baking cookies all around me, I would tell you about my day, Mom.
I would tell you that yesterday was hard, but today was better.
I would tell you that Michael has been chosen to be a Board Scholar, just like Daniel was in 5th grade, and that he's also Student of the Month for January.
I would tell you that Daniel is having a harder time than I would like for him to in 7th grade, and that we are considering other options for him next year because we refuse to let Shamrock suck the excitement for school out of him.
I would tell you about how he got in the car yesterday saying he saw one of the greatest things he'd seen in a long time after school at Dad's house. "What was that?" I asked. "Well, Grandad was sitting in his chair and Boyd came up to him and put his paw on Grandad's knee. Grandad smiled the biggest smile I'd seen him smile in a long time and then let Boyd jump up in the chair with him."
I would tell you about how much better Adam is doing in school this semester, and how much better he has gotten with his driving. I would tell you what a good kid he is, and how even though his heart is wrestling with his hormones, his heart usually wins.
I would tell you that I am still madly and deeply in love with Joel, and that I would go to the ends of the earth to support him.
I would tell you how proud we all are of Dad--how he's "getting along just fine," as he so often tells folks. He is cooking for himself, cleaning for himself, and even doing his own laundry. He misses you terribly, but he is doing just fine.
I would tell you that I got an email from Sarah Alice today, and that she sounds happy.
I would tell you about my morning, and how it renewed my faith in God a tiny bit.
I would invite you to come with me to church this Sunday--Church of the New Covenant--where I will be helping with worship by presiding at the Communion Table.
I would ask you if you've talked to Tom about his trip to New York, and we could share how happy we are for him that he's getting to go.
I would talk to you about all of those things if I could sit at the counter while you bake cookies.
But I can't. And I guess that's okay. It's okay because, well...because it has to be. It has to be because today is a big-girl-britches, no-whining kind of day.
But even big girls who have outgrown whining can miss their mamas....can't they?
Can you bake cookies where you are? Are there counters where you are? I'll bet you can even eat cookie dough where you are without having to worry about salmonella, huh?
Well, say hello to folks there, and don't forget that the 4th is Mamur's 110th birthday. I hope you will enjoy being with your own mama on that day, after so many years "without her." Maybe you should bake her a cake. And maybe Hunter can sit at the counter and visit with you while you work.
I kinda like that image.
How blessed I was to have her for my mother.
This afternoon as Michael sat at the counter doing his homework, I was in the kitchen baking cookies. And just like that, I was back...back at the counter at 1409--the 1970's aqua-colored formica counter with the ceramic square superglued to it to hide the absence-of-formica where I had let the iron warm up face down (oops!) when I was trying to be bigger than I really was. I was back on the dark wood stool that I still sit on whenever I am at my potter's wheel--because I cut the legs down to make it a just-right height since your Decatur house doesn't have a counter. I was back with you there, in the kitchen, asking me about my day and making a snack for me.
If I could sit down at the counter now, with you baking cookies all around me, I would tell you about my day, Mom.
I would tell you that yesterday was hard, but today was better.
I would tell you that Michael has been chosen to be a Board Scholar, just like Daniel was in 5th grade, and that he's also Student of the Month for January.
I would tell you that Daniel is having a harder time than I would like for him to in 7th grade, and that we are considering other options for him next year because we refuse to let Shamrock suck the excitement for school out of him.
I would tell you about how he got in the car yesterday saying he saw one of the greatest things he'd seen in a long time after school at Dad's house. "What was that?" I asked. "Well, Grandad was sitting in his chair and Boyd came up to him and put his paw on Grandad's knee. Grandad smiled the biggest smile I'd seen him smile in a long time and then let Boyd jump up in the chair with him."
I would tell you about how much better Adam is doing in school this semester, and how much better he has gotten with his driving. I would tell you what a good kid he is, and how even though his heart is wrestling with his hormones, his heart usually wins.
I would tell you that I am still madly and deeply in love with Joel, and that I would go to the ends of the earth to support him.
I would tell you how proud we all are of Dad--how he's "getting along just fine," as he so often tells folks. He is cooking for himself, cleaning for himself, and even doing his own laundry. He misses you terribly, but he is doing just fine.
I would tell you that I got an email from Sarah Alice today, and that she sounds happy.
I would tell you about my morning, and how it renewed my faith in God a tiny bit.
I would invite you to come with me to church this Sunday--Church of the New Covenant--where I will be helping with worship by presiding at the Communion Table.
I would ask you if you've talked to Tom about his trip to New York, and we could share how happy we are for him that he's getting to go.
I would talk to you about all of those things if I could sit at the counter while you bake cookies.
But I can't. And I guess that's okay. It's okay because, well...because it has to be. It has to be because today is a big-girl-britches, no-whining kind of day.
But even big girls who have outgrown whining can miss their mamas....can't they?
Can you bake cookies where you are? Are there counters where you are? I'll bet you can even eat cookie dough where you are without having to worry about salmonella, huh?
Well, say hello to folks there, and don't forget that the 4th is Mamur's 110th birthday. I hope you will enjoy being with your own mama on that day, after so many years "without her." Maybe you should bake her a cake. And maybe Hunter can sit at the counter and visit with you while you work.
I kinda like that image.
