She lost her mother this year. So for us--and for so many others--mother's
day is something different and deeper this year. So, here's a bouquet of words to hopefully fill in
some of the un-flowery-ness, inspired by my friend Laura Lynn Brown's new book,
Everything That Makes You Mom.
For Mom, Mother's Day 2013
I see a New England Gal following herArmy heart to that
Nebraska farmer. I notice the way she relishes baking peanut blossom cookies at Christmas. Their perfection annoys me a bit, symmetrical with an equal proportion of peanut cookie and chocolate
kiss. The lop-sided, overly crispy
creations I made this year left me wondering how I would ever measure up. . . that
is, in cookie baking.
I see a tea drinker with pickles on the table at nearly
every meal. I notice the way she leans toward York Peppermint Patties, MASH re-runs, Murder She Wrote and fabric, ooh
the fabric. Her strong and skinny hands
have a way with finding just the right colors. Those worker hands have always been busy, ensuring
that that when we had little--it was tidy and welcoming, when we
had less--we made our own, and when we had too much--we shared it. Those hands found the bargains and birthday party
giggles for girls gallivanting up to church for the next scavenger hunt clue.
I see a nervous driver determined to get this club-volleyball gal to every tournament, even through busy Omaha and
beyond. I notice the way she slips notes into coat pockets and lunch pails. I see her eyes tired from staying up washing
jerseys or talking to her little back brace girl who's not comfortable in that
contraption or her own skin. Her tiredness added to my courage in the
middle-schooliest of days.
I see a new grandma coming to my maternity leave with casseroles and
groceries, choosing a short stay in spite of that grand-baby-girl tug that made
her want otherwise. I see her wanting to
keep us close but letting us kids explore creek beds and stay up all night. I her again and again loving in the most beautiful
way, the way that holds me close and then shoves me out and into my own life.
I see her in me, when I stop to say a prayer, when I get hungry for Corn Chowder, and when I take
care of my own little girl when she's sick. I will always see her in so many places, but most clearly at Christmas when carols and ornaments make me remember, and when I make my asymmetrical peanut blossom cookies.
___________________
p.s. Mom, sorry for
throwing a complete fit when you made me go to that boy's birthday party in
elementary school when all of the other kids weren't going. It was right to go. . . and for flinging that hair tie at you and
breaking your etched glass window. . . and
for so many other things I'll never know or remember. Thanks for all the grace. - Ev
visiting from Lisa Jo's.
ReplyDeleteFirst of all I was at JTREAT with you, and the reason I know this is that painting up next to your name. I still can't believe that you did that with a doller store paintbrush. Amazing.
i love this tribute to your mom, the little things you notice that maker her your mom, and the ways that you see her being grandmom and sharing with you now that you are mom. Beautiful reflection.