Sunday, May 09, 2010
You can take the girl away from her mommy, but you can't take the mommy away from the girl
It's mother's day in America.
It's just another Sunday here in France.
I never really liked Mother's Day much. It's that sheep mentality thing. I never made a good sheep.
But, I have to say, I miss my Mommy today. I miss her a lot.
When I lived in America I saw her frequently. Stopped into her house, which is still my childhood home, more often than may be normal for a 40-something woman with children of her own.
It is always the same there. Same smells. Same furniture. Same pictures on the walls. As it should be.
First thing I do when I get there is use the bathroom. I'm not sure why that is. When I'm sitting on the toilet, I talk to Mom through the door.
Then I come out into the kitchen and go straight to the refrigerator. I often don't realize I am doing it. Suddenly I'll just be standing, gazing into her refrigerator, but not seeing anything. And I'm not even hungry. What am I looking for? Cherry Jello? A glass of milk to go with my Oreos? My childhood?
Sometimes when I walk into her kitchen, I see the light on downstairs in the basement and hear the dryer spinning hotly-- cachunk- cachunk-- and it brings me right back. I am coming home from school. Mom is home. Mom was always home. "Mom. Are you down there?"
And I don't even have to see her. I can just imagine her down there, standing in front of the dryer, folding Dad's thin T-shirts, his holey briefs, his ancient socks. Just like she has always done.
Just like she has always.
Just like she has.
Just like she.
Newish BabyCenter posts here and here.