Thinking About My Mother

I often wonder what my mom would say if we were sitting face to face. I was so young when she passed away, that it’s hard for me to picture. I still picture her as she was the last time I saw her. Man, she was so beautiful.
I wonder how she would be with her grandchildren. I wonder if we would hang out. Maybe we would be friends, like a lot of my friends are with their moms. One thing I am sure of, I would be able to tell her anything.
I hear she was a lot like me. I don’t remember, I was a kid and didn’t see her the way others did. From stories I am told, she sounds like she was. Nothing makes me smile, like hearing people talk about her. It helps me feel like I really knew her. You wouldn’t believe how little you pay attention to things you don’t want to forget, until you wake up one day unable to remember.
I was thirteen when she passed. I was old enough to know her as a mother. I was just at that age where our conversations weren’t as “kid to adult”. I remember telling her about how upset I was that my friend liked every boy that I liked. Strange how that was so important, when I was unaware that that would be one of our last conversations.
I can remember her laugh. I remember her smile. I can’t remember the exact color of her eyes, that bothers me. I remember her fingernails, as strange as that is. I know she was tall, but was she taller than me? I can’t honestly say.
The last summer we spent together,  we watched the movie “Beaches”. The part where the lady is frantically searching for a picture of her mother’s hands made me cry that day. I couldn’t imagine the pain she must have been feeling. We both cried. We talked a lot after that. She pulled out her year books, old pictures and an old jewelry box. Inside the box were the letters my dad wrote to her when she was still in high school. She cried as she read them, and let me read them. I always wondered if she regretted some of her choices. Of course, I’ll never know. I am grateful for that day. It is the most vivid memory I have of her. In hind sight, either she knew, or God was preparing me for, what would happen.