I have been doing lots of therapeutic journaling these days, some notes even dating back to early childhood. I told my therapist last week that I noticed a trend of special memories of/with you that I was not sure I had ever shared with you. If I had shared them in years passed, then I thought you could benefit from a reminder or just to know what stuck with me. So I am sharing some of the highlights of our Mother/Daughter relationship with you.
Some of my first memories of you involve bus trips to Richard Simmons classes and Avon sales. I still have affection for both Richard Simmons and packing an Avon order.
My most consistent childhood memories involved getting off the school bus, running down the driveway, and eating a little snack in our clean house with dinner soon underway. Sounds pretty June Cleaver, but it is my memory.
I also remember how much I loved the aroma when you started cooking, even long after I discovered that it was often just onions getting started. Even though I don’t love onions, I still sometimes cook them up in a dish just for the smell of my childhood.
No matter where I would hide, or how cool I thought I played it, it felt like you always knew I was crying, where to find me, and knew how to make it better.
You were the first person I thought to call when I found out I was pregnant. I ran to you, and you helped take really good care of me and my baby until I could get my legs under me. I needed my Mommy!
I will never forget the poem you gave me when I was pregnant with my first. My Daughter You Will See by James ‘PoppyK’ Kisner is still one of my favorites.
The birthday cake you baked with my kids was the best birthday cake. It was something special made by all of you just for me, something that tends to happen less and less the further you get into adulthood.
I have never felt more support in my life than when I was campaigning to be Mamavation Mom, and you added the cherry to the already spectacular Sunday. You went above, to meet me in a cyberspace that no other IRL friends attempted to be. You tweeted me within seconds of my getting the sad news, it was like old times. You knew I was crying, where to find me, and how to make it better.
Today, you helped me pick the roses for my precious rose garden after our lunch date. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that in our “not historically tight knit family”, and with me approaching my thirty-fifth birthday, that both of my parents are helping me learn to grow roses. It feels like we are nurturing something bigger and more significant, and it makes little TishaMarie giddy and complete in a way she hasn’t been in a long, long time.
Happy, Happy Birthday Mom!!