This branch of rosemary leans into the bloom of an Amaryllis that still grows from a bulb that many years ago bloomed in Mother's room. Rosemary stands for remembrance. The Amaryllis reminds me of perserverance.
So much has filled our days in the months since I last posted here. I have kept records of most of it in my other blogs and journal but this blog is devoted to family journey. The journey recently has been difficult and unprecedented. Global pandemic from a corona virus named Covid-19 and economic crisis continues as efforts begin to put pieces of the puzzle together. Today, over 100,000 people have died from the virus in our country alone, Unemployment claims have climbed beyond 40 million during a period in which schools, restaurants, churches, and all but essential businesses have been closed. Handwashing for 20 seconds often, disinfecting surfaces, wearing masks, and social distancing have become habits, Stay at home mandates have only begun to lift. Our church held its first short gatherings last week for the first time since mid March with many restrictions in place. I have journaled some of this because although it is something none of us will ever forget, writing is healing for me. By the grace of God I am able to continue dealing with the pain of recovery from my back injury and deliberately live in the moments of today, knowing I cannot add anxiety or fear for the future to the load. Simple things help me with that.
I find myself remembering childhood prayers, songs, and friends. Along with other people who mention it on FaceBook - I am choosing to cook simple comfort foods, often from old recipes. I made Mother's Mexican cornbread and chicken and dumplings. I got barley to make her Barley Burger Soup this week. I am thankful for many things, among them all the things my mother passed on to me, including endurance that leaned on faith. I wrote this several years ago and found it this morning.
For Opal
she played the first piano notes I ever heard,
loved all the old Baptist hymns plus
Rustic Dance and I Love You a Bushel and a Peck
took me to piano lessons and made sure I practiced
when I played my piano today, it was a tribute to her
she found the prettiest cloth to make my dresses
smoothing fabric on her bed, laying the tissue patterns, cutting with care
sitting for hours at her Singer
in front of the window where Hawthorne bloomed
pinning and fitting before hand-stitching hems
and teaching me that, too
she brought me yellow roses when I was a young mother of 3 sons
Tyler roses, tight yellow buds in a bunch
in her last years there were petals of yellow sticky notes
to remind me she loved me
I miss her laughter,
the magazine and newspaper clippings she used to send in letters
she had the most beautiful handwriting
I miss the way she loved coffee
the way she smelled of face powder and Tide
I miss sitting by her,
her wrinkled hands clapping with joy or clasped in prayer
clinging by faith until it was by sight
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