Category Archives: growing up

knowing my mother

  

painting easter blocks

painting easter blocks

  Sunday morning is here. I have a bit of a “to do” list – a fun one – try out green smoothie recipes and paint a couple of Easter Blocks, but it seems I am drawn here to this page. I think of different things on Sunday than I do during the other days of the week. I suppose my “system” has throttled down a bit by now and I am in this more tranquil zone and I suppose that is exactly why I find myself here writing/posting.

 

I posted a picture of my dad and me from the 50s yesterday. It came from an old family album and this morning I went to put the album away and found another picture, one of my grandmother, my mother and me. I suppose, like many things, I have seen this photo many times, but today it was as though it were the first time. At three – which is how old I was in the picture, you are not really aware of your mother’s life, you are still very narcissistic and your mother is just the person who sees about you, you don’t see her as really having a life; she is just there for you, right? Well, I look at this picture of my mother and realize she was just 25 years old, still so young and so beautiful and I wonder now what was her life like then, what were her dreams, who were her friends, where did she go, what were her and her mother talking about and I bet they were speaking in French?

 

111 beech st., ville platte, la 1957

111 beech st., ville platte, la 1957

 

I only know her in relationship to “me”. I suppose that is the miracle, the beauty of motherhood; mothers are custom made for their children and each child builds that unique relationship with their mother. I have talked to my brother and sister a lot about “our” mother and we each have a “different” mother even though she is one in the same. Anyway, just a narcissistic post I suppose but I felt like asking myself a few questions and then thinking a bit about that day 55 years ago while still trying to know her.

 

On a side note and one of humor, I posted the back of the photograph – it was developed in New Orleans Louisiana in 1597! Oops I think they meant 1957 – gotta love life before digital huh?

1597?

1597?

b u

p s

Driving

I have spent most of my summer vacation “driving Miss Elizabeth” around. We went to voice lessons, ballet classes, shopping, visiting, junking, touring, we went everywhere. It seems each day was something – maybe it was just a quick run to Walgreens for “Red –y” nail polish or maybe it was an all dayer to Magazine in New Orleans, whatever it was, I was the driver and she was the passenger. Well, I have always been a stay at home kind of person and she is too, but at 16, her stay at home and my stay at home concept are a bit different – there were many times I turned on that ignition with much reluctance and dread. Now, here in mid-august, I realize how much I will miss these days of “driving Miss Elizabeth”. She will be driving herself by the end of October. I won’t be in the car with her anymore, I won’t be the one she talks to and sings to; I’ll be home and she’ll be gone. I look back at all of the little nooks and crannies of her life that I discovered while driving her around – I know her favorite songs (they are now my favorite songs ), I know who she saw at the movies and how she liked it – I know what movie she saw! – I know what she’s wearing and how she’s feeling because of all that driving we do. I capture her life the instant it happens; I have a front row seat there beneath the steering wheel. I have to believe that she is wrapped up tight enough to me, to her core, that even though she stretches out to distant places, she will spring back to her center now and then and I will always be there.
Another chapter will soon close and while I look forward to my “freedom”, I will miss those “transient” moments “driving Miss Elizabeth”.
my little dress (my grandmother made) and elizabeth’s favorite hat (when she was about 3)  hanging out together – awwww!
holding tight
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