Sunday, May 11, 2008

putting my mom back in mother's day

My mother used to tell me I was a brilliant baby (what happened you ask? Years following the Grateful Dead...nuff said).

She told me I spoke in sentences before words. I knew how things worked. I knew where things belonged.

My brother's play mobile garage was my favorite toy. In the car I would take off my shoes and throw them at him.

She gave me stale bagels to teethe on.

She would make my clothes.

She was an artist.

She drew cartoons on my lunch bags and every year for my school fair would run the "tattoo" booth. She would paint the most fantastic creatures on my schoolmates faces and arms. For a day I was the most popular kid in my class.

When my parakeet died she painted his likeness on a wooden box. We buried him in the garden.

My mother could sing. She sang out loud while she cooked, while she cleaned. While we drove.

She smiled while she sung and I can remember the movement of her lips, the perfection of her teeth. My mother had great teeth.

She was a wonderful cook and an even better baker. She made teddy bear cakes; train cakes. She made my Aunts wedding cake.

She would tell me that she loved me like rainbows and missed me like spring.

My mother was an amazing friend to both hers and mine.

She had a Bronx accent, which I only recognized after she was gone.

Her laughter rang.

I know exactly what it felt like to curl up against her and have her scratch my back.

I remember her scent.

The Lily of the Valley was her favorite flower and I plant them for her. I also still grow the very same Irises from her garden; they are 25 years old.

She told me that love was supposed to make you happy, not make you sob and fight.

My mother was vibrant, she was kind and she took pleasure from life...she made everything beautiful.

That's me on the counter.

This sits on my night stand.


Who is to understand

The winning or the loosing

God needed angels

And that for me explains the choosing

~My Bubbie


the new girl said...

Oh, Clink.

Amber said...

What a great woman. You're lucky to have had her as a mom.

But you knew that already.

EmilyPie said...

so, I read this earlier, but couldn't comment just then.. I was too choked up.

this was beautiful.. really.

Anonymous said...

I love picture on your nightstand.

I would also like to point out that obviously the whole 'baby on the counter' issue is hereditary...

Megan said...

Beautiful post. Your mother would be so proud.

...missed me like spring... that got me going.

andi said...

Oh, this made me cry. She sounds like an amazing woman. You were so lucky to have her (and she, you).