Friday, March 27, 2009
I was assigned the task of sifting through the tower of jewelry boxes to separate the costume from the sentimental from the genuine articles.
When I was done I was a sobbing mess curled in the middle of my parents king sized bed.
I lay clutching a red leather box in one hand....and in the other my mother's engagement ring.
From the time I was very small I was always fascinated by it. She didn't wear it often but when she did oh how I was drawn to it! "Sparkle plenty" she would say, waving her fingers so the diamond would catch the light. She wore it when they went out, or for a special occasion with a matched diamond wedding band. It was dazzling.
A far cry from the plain gold braided band that adorned her finger on most days.
When my sobs began to subside I held it up to the winter sun streaming through the window. It's prisms danced across the bed spread as I turned it this way and that. I examined it from all sides and tried to memorize it's every facet while picturing it on her hand.
It left an imprint in my palm from how tightly I squeezed it. Blood from a stone; tears from a diamond; I felt like I was letting the last little bit of her go when I returned it to it's box. I brought the humble pile of jewelry to my father and fell so deep into depression that there was no light. There were no prisms for longer then I can even remember.
Eventually, I healed. Slowly. I forgot the rings size, it's sparkle, it's details. I reached a point where if asked I could only assure its existence but nothing else.
That was until I found myself sitting on a piece of driftwood on the northern California coast. I felt Then Future Spouse shift beside me and I looked over to see him perched on one knee.
He held a red leather box in his outstretched hand; nestled in it was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. My mothers ring. My ring.
He said wonderful things. I said yes and cried. It was more then I ever thought that moment could have been.
Unlike my mother I wear it everyday. Even filthy from soap scum and lotion it still flashes in the sun. Clean; it could blind you. It still dazzles me.
Riley loves to finger it, she says "prewwy" and tries to pull it from my hand. I tell her how much her grandmother would have loved her, that the "pretty" is a piece of her. I tell her to have patience. Someday...a day further away from today then either of us could ever imagine it will be hers.
Because that is how I want it passed on. From mother to daughter. Sparkle plenty.
Friday, March 20, 2009
How toddlers help clean.
You see the ugly couch? What you don't see is the black industrial photography studio (thank you RIT) tape holding it all together. And the ugly rug? Well that I will spare you the close up of. Just ewwwww.
So here is where you come in. Help me spend my tax return.
and this (with ottoman) ala 'Cindy Crawfords Collection' at Raymour and Flanigan...
Or should I stick with a sectional? If you were coming over for a gathering** lets say...where would you want to sit? Would you find a 3 seat sofa (remember someone must park it on the crack because there are only 2 pillows) and chair/ottoman enough seating?
Would you want to put your footsies on this?
There is a little blue in there right?
Just pretend you see it, its on sale and its Pottery Barn.
**Where a gathering indicates 6-8 people for informal food and company.
***Edited to add that I don't like the throw pillows so much. Cause in now way do those things go with that rug.
Monday, March 16, 2009
After another failed attempt at socialization today for me and Riley at the park, I went to Target and bought 7 different types of cheese.
If thats not depression I don't know what is.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls ties my Blanket Girls...my best friends and me together.
I was listening to Bob Marley's Acoustical Medley the moment when my mother slipped away.
These are the songs I hear in my head everyday of my life. They are the songs I always come back to; the ones I am always humming.
When I am not humming "Give me back that fillet of fish, give me that fish..." Seriously, someone help me!
From the moment I knew Riley was growing inside me I began to sing to her. Everyday of my pregnancy and every day of the last 15 months. They are varied fun tunes, theme songs or the aforementioned commercial.
Give me back that smelly dipe, give me that dipe....
The first night in the hospital I held her sleeping body close to me. I found the words to a song I have always known, and knew in that moment that it would always be hers. That night, and every night after I have sung her The Beatles, I Will.
I nursed her and rocked her. I would sing it and then hum it before finally settling her peacefully in her crib.
While I am no longer nursing her I am still singing to her...its our bedtime ritual.
But I wonder for how long. She grows restless for more books or for her bed. It is crystal clear to me in these moments how quickly she is growing and changing. How fast she makes up her own mind.
Sometimes I worry that this song will fall away one day to be one I only sing to myself.
But them I remember the times she has heard it on the radio and has raced towards me. "Mamamamamamama..." Shes climbed into my lap and snuggled for a minute before racing back away.
I know little moments like that will be a fleeting gift as she grows. But she will always be mine, I will always remember and I promise I will always sing for her and to her.