Thursday, May 29, 2008

Walking in your shoes and your jackets and maybe a sweater or two

Dear Mama,
I just got back from visiting with you in a dream. I always feel as if I've been so close to you when we meet in dreams. The funny thing is that I don't even think you were actually in the dream. Just your stuff. Your stuff was in the dream. I was Gallatin at your house (only it wasn't exactly your house). Aunt Theresa was there with me. There was a huge RV in the driveway that belonged to me and Michael. I'm pretty sure he was in it. Your bathroom pretty much looked the same. Except one half of the cabinet was missing. When I peeked inside, there was a giant stack of blue tucks pads... I assumed they were from when you were sick. I have a stack of green ones in my bathroom from having a home birth. I opened up the bathroom closet. Your white sneakers sat there, all by themselves. I was in a hurry. I had to go to meet Geoffrey. We were meeting at the Discovery Center (which is actually in Murfreesboro) for a science experiment at noon. I was going to be late. But instead i walked into your bedroom which had suddenly grown. Everything was in the same place only more spread out. The ceilings had even become vaulted. I opened the closet. It was a walk-in. And it had a light. I started taking your clothes out, one by one. Placing them on the bed. The pink sweater that I got you for your last birthday was in there. I grabbed framed pictures off of your dresser and stacked them in my arms. I felt so close to you, just being in your house. I suppose that through dreams is the only way in which I'll ever be able to visit your house again. It breaks my heart. It's more than I can even imagine. It makes me feel so lonely. I'm so thankful for the power of the imagination... for it can allow me to go places that, in real life, I'll never go again.

I love you,

Sunday, May 11, 2008

Happy Mother's Day Mama.

Dear Mama,
I keep thinking of all of these cool things I'd get you if you were here this Mother's Day. I'd take you to eat at Miller's. I'd drag you to have your nails done since you never did experience the pleasure of a pedicure. We'd go for a movie or maybe I'd buy you tickets to a concert. Perhaps we'd even go away over night to some town that has really awesome thrift stores and just shop til we dropped. Today I honored you by forcing myself to go to church, by not laying in the bed feeling sorry for myself, by showing true appreciation for the effort that my children and my husband made to make my day extra special, by bargain hunting for your grandson at the Goodwill Sunday Sale as you always did, like clockwork (Hunter now has three new pairs of pants and two long sleeved button down shirts that were only $6.25 total... I was ecological and economical by shopping used. I even refused a bag). Michael asked me during church if I was okay and I said yes. And, momentarily forgetting why I might be sad, he said, "Awww, what's the matter?" in a cheerful voice. I honored you by not being a bitch and snapping at him. Instead, I simply said, "It's just a hard day." With that, he put his strong arm around me and pulled me a little closer. I love that man. After the Goodwill, I honored you by spending half an hour meticulously picking out this week's library books for your grandchildren and then sharing an anecdote from my childhood with the librarian. I'm sure she didn't care that you used to lay in bed and read library books to me every night (and the funnies you read on Sundays) but she showed great kindness by acting as if she cared. Today I will continue to honor you by thanking God for the many Mother's Days we did spend with one another and for the powerful and positive impact you had upon my life each and every day you lived. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for giving this whole Motherhood thing your all. I sure do appreciate it. And, as always, I miss you like crazy.