She had a way of making you feel comfortable in your own skin, and just feel good. I remember days, times, being together, just *being*. Laughing. Being known and loved. And feeling so content and full of joy that it seemed that the both of us just shined. Sunshine just shooting out of us from all angles.
I miss her. It's been over a year now, and I still miss her. I feel haunted. I went from not being able to dream of her, and wanting so desperately to be able to, just to be able to hug her and laugh with her, tell her I love her one more time, and to hear it from her; to dreaming of her almost every night. That's something only Mac knows about me. -And now you. I dream of my dead mother every night. In my dreams she comes to me. Sometimes I remember that she's dead in my dreams, and sometimes I don't. But always, we are together, and I feel the love.
Living in her old house, my childhood home, I realize that in some way, my heart has been waiting for her to come home. My family has been in this house so long, I know every sound. I even know the sounds of the cars in front of my house. I remember a younger me, sitting in my room; I would hear the muffled sound of my mothers Volvo come up the street and park in the driveway. Sometimes, she would stay in her car a few minutes longer enjoying the song that was on the radio. And then, I would hear her car door shut, and she would bounce up the front walk and steps, keys jingling, the all too familiar sound of her opening the lock in the door, and then bounding in the house. She'd call out to me and come find me, fresh faced and happy -always happy to see me. She loved coming into my room and sitting on my bed and catching up with me. I loved it too. I would do the same thing to her. When I would come home, I would find her and come sit on her bed. We'd talk about our days. The people in it. The things that frustrated us, or made us feel real good. She worked at the post office in Sonoma, as a window clerk. Sonoma's a small town. And everybody knows everybody else there. I remember times that I would drive the 45 minute commute (one way), just to have the pleasure of her company. We'd leave early in the morning, sometimes as early as 4 O'clock, when the world was still cold, dark and quiet. I would drop her off in the morning, and pick her up at the end of the day. Now that I'm older, and gas prices are obviously much higher, this seems like a strange thing to do. But we loved it. We both really loved each other. And being together, doing nice things for one another, was part of that joy. I hope to find that again. In me, and in other people. I love you Momma, and I still miss you. You were one special lady.
We glowed together.
I miss her. It's been over a year now, and I still miss her. I feel haunted. I went from not being able to dream of her, and wanting so desperately to be able to, just to be able to hug her and laugh with her, tell her I love her one more time, and to hear it from her; to dreaming of her almost every night. That's something only Mac knows about me. -And now you. I dream of my dead mother every night. In my dreams she comes to me. Sometimes I remember that she's dead in my dreams, and sometimes I don't. But always, we are together, and I feel the love.
Living in her old house, my childhood home, I realize that in some way, my heart has been waiting for her to come home. My family has been in this house so long, I know every sound. I even know the sounds of the cars in front of my house. I remember a younger me, sitting in my room; I would hear the muffled sound of my mothers Volvo come up the street and park in the driveway. Sometimes, she would stay in her car a few minutes longer enjoying the song that was on the radio. And then, I would hear her car door shut, and she would bounce up the front walk and steps, keys jingling, the all too familiar sound of her opening the lock in the door, and then bounding in the house. She'd call out to me and come find me, fresh faced and happy -always happy to see me. She loved coming into my room and sitting on my bed and catching up with me. I loved it too. I would do the same thing to her. When I would come home, I would find her and come sit on her bed. We'd talk about our days. The people in it. The things that frustrated us, or made us feel real good. She worked at the post office in Sonoma, as a window clerk. Sonoma's a small town. And everybody knows everybody else there. I remember times that I would drive the 45 minute commute (one way), just to have the pleasure of her company. We'd leave early in the morning, sometimes as early as 4 O'clock, when the world was still cold, dark and quiet. I would drop her off in the morning, and pick her up at the end of the day. Now that I'm older, and gas prices are obviously much higher, this seems like a strange thing to do. But we loved it. We both really loved each other. And being together, doing nice things for one another, was part of that joy. I hope to find that again. In me, and in other people. I love you Momma, and I still miss you. You were one special lady.
