Mom

 The 11th of this month marked the 40th anniversary of my mom's passing.  As I posted the photo above to my profile on social media I noticed her smile.  When she smiled you couldn't help but smile too, and her laugh was infectious.  The next thing I noticed were her red beads, and then the memories started to flow.

I grew up in the 60s and 70s and money was tight in our home. Mom raised my brother and I on her own, and although I never felt poor because we had all we needed and more, she seldom spent money on herself.  

Beads, however, beads of all colors and shapes, were her go-to for "sprucing up" her outfits.  They were affordable and added "pizzazz." She was a bookkeeper so she worked in an office environment throughout her career.

One of the apartments we lived in had only two bedrooms, my brother had one and the other was shared by mom and myself.  It worked out well enough...except during summer vacation from school.  There were two things that annoyed me to no end, two things that were a part of her daily morning routine.  

Every weekday mom did the same thing, at pretty much the same time.  First was coffee and toast, then a cigarette.  Next was showering, hair and makeup.  She only wore a little bit of blush and lipstick, and in my opinion that's all she needed.  This part of her routine allowed me to sleep in for another half hour or so.  Then came the annoying part.  

For one thing, she would start rustling around in our shared closet looking for something to wear and then over to the various containers on her dresser where the clicking sound of beads being rummaged through woke me up - every single day of summer vacation!  I would sleepily plead with her to just pick one please!  

Secondly, she would spray her cologne on and the scent would invade my nostrils like a swarm of flies on a garbage can.  I learned not to open my eyes until the aroma faded, for fear of burning my eyes, which was interesting if I had to pee since I would need to feel my way to the bathroom with my eyes closed.

We laughed over those memories many times.  

Mom was funny, kind and courageous.  She always said that she would defend me to the end if I was in the right, but if I was in the wrong I'd have to "pay the piper."  She taught me that actions have consequences and that I would have to suffer them, but that she would be there for me while I did.

She went to bat for me at school over stolen text books, teachers who swore at students and played favorites, and unfair rules that were discriminatory or punitive.  And she never lost.  She just simply laid out the logic and made her case.  She was a force.

I remember going to family picnics or reunions where we would play a friendly game of softball.  Mom could hit a home run and run all the bases, in her 40s.  I learned how to hit the ball from watching her, and I also loved to run those bases.  Sometimes I'd get going so fast that it felt like my feet were ahead of the rest of my body.  And mom would be routing for me from the sideline.  

She hand-made costumes for Halloween, hosted scads of other people's kids for birthday parties - and made the cakes too.  Our Christmases were always special.  I remember she and my uncle talking about the trips to the city searching for the toys on our lists.  I never knew until much later all the effort that she put into making our Christmas wishes come true.

We recounted those memories thoughout the years too.

All the memories are so very precious to me now.  I was just 21 years old when she passed and I miss her dearly every day, but when I look back I can clearly see how blessed I was to have a mom like her.  She taught me so many things, some of them obvious to me, and others I'm sure I'm not even conscious of.  They are all part of what makes me "me."  Most importantly, she taught me how to care, to care for others and to care about doing the right thing.

I love you mom, until we meet again.