Tripping Over Typeset

I’m not even sure what I want to write today because honestly it’s one of those days.

My goal setting of writing 2 blogs a week is keeping me on task. Reason #1 — I’m motivated by setting a goal and checking off my progress and #2 — I really want that new upholstered chair as a reward for achieving this goal!

Yet I still struggle with what to write today.

I could pull out an idea from my writing prompt pile or I could simply write what’s in my heart. But the reality behind the heart piece is that sometimes I’d rather not. I don’t always like to pull out what’s in my heart because it’s personal … close to me… it’s safe there. Sacred. Private. It’s my own little piece of my heart that I get to keep to myself.

Today is my mother’s birthday. She would be 79 today.

It doesn’t really matter how many years go by past her death. I still miss her.

She died way too young. Others would say she lived a good life. And she did. But to her kids, her husband and all who loved her, she died too young.

My kids were small. They don’t really remember her except through my stories I tell them. They remember her through pictures and remnants of her gifts to them.

She was there for their births. She was one of the first to kiss their precious skin and hold them close to her heart.  Mama Green loved them immensely.  She would mail them stickers, coloring pages and random cards because “everyone likes surprises in the mail!”

When she would be missing them, she’d pack up her car and drive alone across the country to spend time with her “grandbabies”.

I miss those days.

She was not just my mom. She was one of my dearest and closest friends.

Before the days of free long distance and cell phones we would talk for an hour or two each day.

When Samantha was just a baby we had one of those old-fashioned land-line phones, you remember those?  It had no speaker phone capability so I bought a 20-foot long wall cord and a receiver curly cord with another 25 feet so I could pretty much reach any part of our small 2-bedroom apartment. I could cradle the receiver between my ear and shoulder, change a diaper, spoon feed Sam in her high chair, play with toys on the floor and even put her down for a nap all while talking with mom.

We talked of nothing and everything on an everyday basis. With no MOPS groups or neighboring stay-at-home moms, she was my sanity in a world of young pastor wife days and toddlers toddling at my feet.

As a young girl of 9 or 10 I remember walking into the kitchen and seeing my mom standing over a sink full of dishes and seeing tears fall into soapy water.

“Mom?? Why are you crying?”

Quietly and slowly she spoke, “I just miss my mom!”

My mom lost her mom far too early in life as well.

It’s heartbreaking and some days the heart breaks more than others.

Today is one of those days.

I miss her laugh. I miss her quirky sayings and reprimands of “Close the fridge” and “DON’T DRINK OUT OF THE MILK CARTON!”  (But can she really calculate how many glasses we saved her from washing by taking a swig instead of wasting a glass???)

I imagine her laughing in heaven at my reasoning and saying, “yep, you would think of that!”

Comfort comes in knowing she’s still watching. She still sees her grandbabies and is proud of all they are becoming. She cheers from the sidelines and yells the loudest… “Go, go, go!”

Today it’s snowing and blowing like the day she passed away.

Maybe…  just maybe… she’s reminding me “I’m not that far away!”

Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you and miss you oodles and oodles!

~Rachel