She loved gardenias.
I remember that.
I saw a beautiful one in Trader Joe’s yesterday that I couldn’t resist. I picked it up carefully and took it to the register. I try not to spend money on frivolous purchases, but I’ve been feeling a need for my mother’s arms and for some reason thought that having this near me would bring me a smile to my face and bring my mother close to me.
She loved wisteria; forsythia, roses, big hats, cooking, baking, canning, sewing, dancing, entertaining, smiling, laughing and a good martini. She lived life to the fullest, and reminded me each day about what it was like to be human. She’s the one who taught me, by hysterical example, to make at least one or two huge mistakes each day (Keeps us humble, n’est pas?) and to always do things for others.
I have some days when I struggle to remember the feel of her arms around me. I still listen, very carefully for the sound of her voice. I close my eyes and remember her standing in the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist, cooking and laughing while on the phone at the same time.
I often wonder what advice she would offer if we were to sit on my couch sipping cups of coffee. I know she would reach out and brush my bangs out of my eyes, and look at me with love and affection. I know she would tell me how proud she is of the woman I am. I would also like to think she’d tell me to stop whining; to be thankful for what I have and to get out and do someone for someone else. I think she would.
But I honestly don’t know.
And I think that is what makes my heart ache the most.
Because I can’t quite put my finger on what she might say. Her voice and thoughts are a distant memory that I reach for so often, but never quite seem to touch.
But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop tying.
(This is something Sassy sent ME. And it made me think of my own mother.... It's worth the listen. But bring tissues...)