Sunday, July 11, 2010

Your Mark Is Permanent

There are signs of my mother everywhere.

The last load of laundry that she put through my washer and dryer, still waiting to be folded.
The last two pieces of cheesecake and raspberry sauce in my refrigerator that she made for me on my birthday.
The scraps of towel she tore apart and used to clean my hardwood floor - that had not been truly cleaned in the six years we have lived in this house.
The towel she brought me to replace the one she tore up which happened to be a bit raggedy but still one of my favorites. The one she brought is my new favorite.
The new pillows she bought for me that support my aching, pregnant body each night and carry me through to a new morning - one day closer to the end of pregnant.
The towels put away in my cabinet that are folded differently than I fold them, but would not be folded at all had she not done it.
The lack of grass choking out my daisies.
The morning glories thriving in the pots on my front porch - growing from seeds she harvested off the dried up vines from last year and planted with the kids.
All the clean clothes left in my children's drawers.

And the empty space she left on the couch . . .in my kitchen. . .my laundry room. . .my garden. . .my inner sense of well being.

Luckily she leaves other signs - the kind that won't fade.

Like homemade macaroni and cheese with red sauce served at our table regularly.
Magenta bottles of pomegranate magic. . .or jelly, whichever you prefer.
Thursday taco night.
Little Cecily saying "Nana, Nana, where Nana, Mama?"
Instilling the confidence in me to keep trying to be a mother.
Organizing my medicine drawer.
Airborne when we feel the slightest itch in the throat.
Stevia for morning oats.
The nightgown she gave me out of her own suitcase after Caroline was born that I wear all the time while I am pregnant and nursing.
Her genes made manifest in my mirrors and my daughters.
#7 on my cell phone speed dial.

My Mom is in New York.
My Mom moved to New York.
She is in my sister's home now.
I know what kinds of things they do together - work - and some play - and make sure to take a nap every day.
Goodbye Mom.

It's alright. The next best thing to doing my laundry is doing Aubrey's. The Hannigs are lucky to have you, even if you don't do any laundry at all. And Heaven knows they've waited long enough to have Nana on that side of the country.

Until September 14th.





5 comments:

Emily said...

What a touching tribute to your wonderful mother.

Your writing (and you...and your family) continually brings tears to my eyes.

Love you.

Emily said...

Man.

I'm missing her, and she's not even my mother, and she wasn't even here in my house.

Susan said...

I miss her too. There's just nobody, but NOBODY, greater than Nita.

Chani said...

I agree with Susan. Nobody better than my mom.

That made me cry, Jess. Way to go. ha ;)

I drive by their/grandma/grandpa's house sometimes and long to walk through the iron gate. But someone else occupies that space now. Someone else is swimming in that pool that held so many bloody feet when we were kids. That pool, that brought us all together from all over the country EVERY summer.

New York is so far. But... I can't deny that Aubrey is long past due for some mom time.
:/ I just wish my time were longer.

aubtobobtolob said...

from your washer to mine...
The neighbor still has a house up for sale.... just sayin. ;-)
love kisses and a pat on yo belly.
aub
p.s. the woman is magic pure and simple.