May Thoughts 2023

    

  Lately I’ve been thinking about how a year ago I was seriously injured and out of commission for a while. It’s a weird kind of anniversary, but it was a huge learning experience. I had to learn to step back and let others take over doing most everything, including caring for my daughter. Of all the things I could not do for a few months that is the one that gave me the most stress. Thankfully my husband stepped up in a huge way, and we were able to connect with a wonderful caregiver to do the weekday morning “shift” of getting  our girl up and ready for her day habilitation program bus. I also couldn’t drive for a while so had to rely on grocery deliveries and rides to doctor and physical therapy appointments. I’ve always been an independent person and having to rely on others and accept help for everything was quite challenging at first. It helped to remind myself that just as it lifts me up to help others, they were being lifted up to be able to help me. 

     May is a month of celebration and commemoration. It is both my husband’s father’s and my mother’s birth month, Mother’s Day, my father’s death date, and Memorial Day. That is many events to reflect on and memories to go over. It can make me a little sad when I think about how I will never again share birthday cake with my father-in-law or my mother in May. Never again will I see my mother’s delight at a flower to plant in her yard or piece of jewelry to wear for her birthday or Mothers Day. Sometimes when I’m out shopping I see a blouse or necklace and think, “Mom would have liked that”. I miss picking out those birthday cards. I think about my father’s passing 3 days after my mother’s birthday, and how unexpected it was. I miss his quiet, gentle presence and dry sense of humor. I often think of him when I hear songs on the radio that we listened to together in his car when he drove me to my boyfriend’s house in high school. I remember how tenderly he held my babies and sitting on his knee as he read “The Three Billy Goats Gruff” and other fairy tales to me when I was a small child. We miss him, we miss them all.

     Memorial Day is how we end this month, and we generally mark it with the first cookout of the summer season, although it is still technically spring. We used to get together at my parents’ house every year for “burgers and dogs”. Mom made potato and macaroni salads, and we had a good time in the back yard all afternoon. Now I have a cookout at my house, with pretty much the same menu— why change a good thing? I look forward to it every year. I remember my senior year of high school and I was on the drill team with the marching band; we twirled the flags as we marched in front of the band. For Memorial Day that year instead of our usual uniforms we wore denim shorts, white tee shirts and white canvas shoes. We were very happy about that! It’s funny the things we remember.

     I hope you have a May filled with memories of good times and loved ones

A Mother's Purse

What is in a mother's purse? Pretty much anything you could need. Runny nose? Here's a tissue. Tickle in your throat? Have a cherry cough drop. Bored waiting for the doctor? How about a game of tic tac toe played on the back of a dry cleaner's receipt? Oh, your hair's a mess;  comb it please. Poor dear, your head hurts--use my collapsible cup to get some water and take this Tylenol.

My mother's purse was always full, ready for anything four kids could need when out of the house. Mine also is full of "just in case" items. My daughter, even though she's not a mother, can fit so much in her purse that when she starts removing items I am in awe of her packing skills.

My earliest recollection of carrying a purse is of a homemade denim one I had in high school which was full of important things like makeup and pens and cherry Lifesavers candies. It feels strange when I go somewhere without my purse--it really gets to be a habit! Even when my mother was affected with Alzheimer's she never left the house without her purse. By that time, however, it was empty except for her house key rattling around inside it.  It was the saddest thing to me. Life once so full and vibrant became an emptiness profound in its vacancy. Sometimes I think about that, but usually my full purse reminds me of Mom and how she was always prepared to care for her family no matter where we were. It's a tradition I have continued and passed down to the next generation.

This is a sketch I did several years ago of a purse I bought my daughter at a "purse party" at a friend's house.