Just thinking about my mom

I was thinking about my mom this morning.  There was no particular reason.  I was just thinking about her ways, about her mannerisms, the funny things she’d say, and yes, some of the funny faces she’d make.  I found myself laughing out loud.  I can see bits and pieces of her in me.  (I see my dad too, and to be honest I always kind of felt that I took after my dad a bit more), but especially as I grow older I see a definite reflection of her in me. 

I also find myself remembering her (when I think of her, that is; she’s not gone!)  with a somewhat rosy recollection.  That may be age too.  Not that there wouldn’t be things I wouldn’t change about her . . . . Let’s be honest, what child wouldn’t?  But as time goes on I am more and more happy and content to remember and meditate on the things that make me smile. 

There is a way a daughter perceives her mother as a child in sort of an idealistic picture frame.  This can be in the way she remembers how her mother looked to what she did or accomplished or even in smaller and more subtle ways, like how she smelled or sounded on the phone.  My mom smells like Jergens cherry almond lotion.  And whether she still wears it yet, I can’t really say, but for me, that is what she will always smell like.  Interestingly, it said a lot about her.  Utilitarian.  She didn’t have a lot of use for perfume (that I can remember).  But a nice smelling lotion served its purpose and was pleasing to ones senses as well.  On the phone she sounds like a southern bell. 

I also always thought my mother was pretty, particularly pictures of her in her twenties.  She had a sort of professional, neat and tidy look, in my opinion.  One little known fact is that she did work for the FBI.  She did clerical and secretarial work.  I remember seeing her use her Greg’s short hand most of my childhood.  She still does, I believe, while taking notes over the phone, writing down times of kids’ baseball games or dates of plays, etc.  I always thought she had the most beautiful handwriting.  Perfect cursive with a perfect slant.  I did not inherit nor practice such handwriting.  Mine is short and “sqwonk,” a term my husband coined that has not yet made it into Webster’s dictionary.  Has it?? 

She always seemed so smart to me, knowledgeable in current events and history.  I don’t remember her reading many books, fiction or non-fiction.  Most of her reading enjoyment came from the newspaper or magazines.  But I think back now to how hard she worked and as a mother myself how it might have been a challenge to find much time to read at all.  She was (is) a very discerning person.  I could see her read right through a person at a glance.  Good or bad.  I think she judged most situations and personalities accurately, cutting to the core.  Maybe someone was having a bad day . . . . or in another, they probably responded that way to everyone in life . . . .

Getting back to the FBI.  When I was little and thinking my mother quite smart and perceiving, I could envision her as an American spy.  Her hair pinned back neatly and curled under.  Pictures of her in her pencil skirts, heels, and pearls, Jackie Kennedy style helped the image.  Its so funny to look back at family pictures of my mom in her short hair-cuts and seventies wardrobe.  The two pictures seemed so contrary with each other it was hard to believe that it was my mother in those pictures.  It seemed like it had to be another person. 

I always thought she had beautiful hands.  Her nails never wore paint but were perfectly manicured.  Her nails really did seem as strong as “nails.”  They still do.  I don’t know how she kept them.  Mine are usually neatly short.

I realize that some of these thoughts are a bit random.  Maybe in time I will come back to them and add to or rearrange. Make more sense of them or add meaning.  But they are what they are today.  And mostly, what I think of when I think of my mom is someone extremely self-sacrificing.  That can be said for her today as well.  But back then, when I and my three sisters were growing up I have to admit probably everything she did was out of what she perceived our best interest.  (Some things I will without shame still adamantly protest were NOT for my best interest), but I believe she meant well. 

I can’t think of one thing she ever did out of self interest.  This is not always a good thing.  I think of all her talents and wonder to some degree if she had dreams that might have turned out quite nicely if she had let herself have just a little of herself to herself.   But that is not for me to judge.  What is for me is to observe.  And I would say she has done quite well for herself  to have four daughters who love her and would argue with anyone who thought she had a selfish bone in her body.  Four daughters with great husbands and seventeen grandchildren graduating from high-school and college left and right, or moving to the next grade or the next level in a number of activities or interests so quickly it would make your head spin. 

I think the Bible verse I heard her quote the most was, “the steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and he delighteth in his way.”  Psalm 37:23.  I think what I remember the most about her saying that is it being accompanied by “and I just heard that verse in my head . . . “  I’ll have to go back and ask her when she heard that.  I guess it was enough to me that she heard it at all.  That she heard his voice.  So many don’t. 

She’s not perfect.  But I’m not a teenager anymore.  So I’m not writing on those things.  Just thinking about my mom .. . .