Wednesday, March 14, 2012

My Mother

When I was a little girl, I wrote my mom a poem. I was all of 9 years old. I still remember the words: Five foot two/ Eyes of blue/ That sparkle anew/ With the thought of you. Looking back... I reminisce over my childhood conversations with her. I recall telling her  when I grow up, I want to be just like you. My husband tells me I have succeeded. Seriously, she was gifted with some beautiful quirks.

She loved spontaneity. She didn't mind planning ahead, but took pride in running by the seat of her pants.She was overjoyed when people would stop by unannounced to visit. What fun! She pulled out the brownies or whatever else she could find, & made it impossible for them to decline. I grew up on Lake Michigan, & walking the pier was always in order. Hearing her childhood stories of picnics on the lakefront always amused me. The time when her aunt sat down & the picnic table tipped over was the best.Then there was her first real memory. The day a goose chased her until her Daddy rescued her. It was just as if it happened yesterday.

Her family traveled to Georgia at every opportunity. She loved Georgia... the red mud, the peaches, Jernigan's Creek, & most of all, her family! She loved to visit Liberty Church. She painted a picture of it & also one of her mama's old homestead. She told me of the day she jumped in the creek & her swim suit top fell off. There was also the day a leach secured itself to her leg & nearly frightened her to death. We had watermelon seed spitting contests, & my uncle carved us teeth of watermelon rind. I had a cat my aunt said was mine. Her name was Patty.

My mom played the piano beautifully (& still does). She had a soft touch. I remember how I used to follow my mom right at her heels from one end of our cracker box house to the other. Out of no where, she would stop dead in her tracks, turn around, & scream a blood curdling scream in my face. No matter how many times we played this game, I would laugh so hard I'd wet my pants. My mother loved to laugh! Silly jokes were the best. Knock Knock. Who's there? Oswald. Oswald who? Oswald my bubble gum. Every time she told it was like the first.

She enjoyed the simple things in life: an ice-cream cone, a day at the beach, a bike ride, the warm breeze, birds chirping... She loved me in spite of my quirks. I was a nervous little girl, & she always comforted me. When I was sick, she made me sock puppets. When my friends hurt my feelings, it was their fault. When I begged for new shoes, she made my dad take me. When I needed 6 fillings, she made my dad take me. When I was afraid of the dark, she sent my dad in to look for monsters. She helped me read my books for school. She watched my silly little skits & told me they were good. She played school with me & helped me dress my dolls.

She gave me a childhood, one that I recount with fondness. I can still look into her sparkly blue eyes & see what I saw as a little girl... kindness resides in her eyes. So many memories. She can no longer do the things she used to do. However, she can still muster the strength to call me daily & to let me know I'm her "Chicky"( as she used to call me). Her eyes tell me she's sad for what used to be. Her voice tells me she's struggling. It's sad to see her age. I know she misses the days when she had spunk. I hope as she recounts them, she finds at least half the joy that blesses me daily.

2 comments:

  1. What a beautiful tribute to your Mother, Susie :)

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  2. I can think of no higher calling when done with pure love then a mom. What precious memories. I laugh thinking of you on her heels and her blood curdling screams.
    What a great visual I had of that in my mind. HA.
    Thank-you for sharing this tribute. She certainly raised up a very special woman in you Susie.

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