Am I Anything Like Her?

My morning walk took me back to my growing up years. The last couple of days have brought my emotions to a quiet reckoning. Emotions I haven't felt in awhile. Emotions that brought tears to my eyes, and because it's only me on the walk, I let them have their way. 

I wondered what her life had been like. If she was happy. Did she have moments of sadness that tried to overtake her? How on earth did she raise 10 kids?!!! Was she able to spend any amount of time with them, or was she constantly doing the work that needed done to raise those little ones? That's how I remember her. Always busy with providing for us. Maybe she was able to spend time with the first 5, but I don't remember ever having time with just her. I don't recall being read to, snuggled, or purposefully taught anything, other than how to survive by putting in the work. Maybe all those things happened. I just don't recall them. But, oh how I loved my momma!

Do I act like her? Would anyone that knew my momma say that I reminded them of her? I'm pretty sure I'm more aggressive than she was. She seemed so shy, quietly going about her household duties that included planting and caring for a huge garden and harvesting it, taking care of the hen house, the cooking (from scratch, no less), and cleaning. Doing all that laundry, on a scrub board for many years, and eventually a wringer washer, then hanging her labor out on a clothes line to dry. She loved flowers. I do remember that. She cared for them much like a mother cares for her children. She spoke to them. Nurtured them. They were her escape. Looking back, I'm so glad she had one. 

In the knowing of how to get things done, I can lean a bit towards a demanding attitude, even if it's only of myself. I suppose others may misunderstand my thinking patterns and become defensive when asked if something has been done yet. I don't even realize my inquiry is coming off as controlling. Maybe even as if I think lesser of anyone who isn't constantly working. However, I do think I have become more mellow as the years have flown past. You may even find me on any given day, when away from the salon, not doing much of anything. And it drives me crazy! I feel as if I've thrown away a day I've been given to live. I suppose it's in my DNA. But I do try relaxing more these days...

Do I look like her? There are times I catch a glimpse of her in my reflection. Maybe it's because I want to. Maybe I look hard for it. For anything that reminds me of my mom. She was a gentle soul. Me, not so much. I do love with a whole heart, but gentleness has never been used to describe any of my attributes. Can a heart be gentle, yet express demand? There are times I feel as though I'm a mix, half and half, of dad and mom. Stands to reason. Right? But where does my individuality come into play?

I wish I had her laugh. That is my favorite memory of her. Her laugh. She spoke with gentleness, laced with anxiety at times. The years took their tole on my mom. As they do most of humanity. We change mentally and physically, as the seasons of life come and go. The storms hit us directly in the face, occasionally. They weather us. Right? They grow us up, so-to-speak. Yet, to see my momma smile and then laugh, was priceless.  

As I rounded the corner of a major roadway, this morning, I felt as though she was walking beside me, telling me how much she loved me. And we spoke about Danny. Dan was/is my brother, born 2 years before me. I've been looking for him for the last several years. Maybe it's been 5, or more. We used to speak with each other at least once a year, but usually 3-4 times a year. He lived in Texas, last contact with him. Mom worried about him so much. He was a runaway at 16 years of age...much too young to be on his own. He did make it through those tumultuous years, married, and had 3 boys. Divorced, Remarried (3 or 4 times), last count. I do wish I could find him. Was mom trying to tell me something about him? Is he with her?

If there is anything in me that is like my mom, it is that she was a big time worrier. Same! I've been accused of looking for things to worry about. That triggers me. Makes me mad, actually. My dad used to say the same thing to my mom. "Why pray when you can worry," he'd say to her. I didn't find that funny then, nor do I now. I do know we should place our trust in the fact that God is for us, and not against us. I do know He is a loving God. I also know that life has its concerns. Its challenges. Its dangers. And even though mercy and grace follow us, we live in a world where it's a bit dangerous to stick our heads in the sand and simply ignore life that is happening all around us.

Would others that knew my mom say we are anything alike? How much of her was passed down to me? Because of her, I live. What part of her is me? She's been gone from this earth since March 19th, 1980. Born in the year that Oklahoma became a state (1907), she was only 73 years old when she left it. I miss her. What a beautiful soul...

Reminiscing, here you'll find me...in Mary's World.