As a child, Sunday mornings were a special time at our house. Dad was usually flitting around, gathering last-minute sheet music for someone who had asked him to play just the day before. Mom would wrangle my sister and I into dresses, make sure we ate a decent breakfast, and try to keep us occupied while she got ready herself. Several sundays, I remember sitting on the bathroom counter while she did her makeup, and we would sing songs as she applied lipstick. The very last thing she would do before leaving the bathroom was spritz on some perfume, usually soft musk. One of my sweetest memories about Sundays was that as she applied her perfume, she would put it on herself, and then ask me if I wanted some, too. Of course I always did, so she would gently spray some on my tummy. It was the littlest thing to her I'm sure. But to me, it meant my mama took that extra minute on a busy Sunday morning just for me. Then we would go to the front closet, where our white shoes and sweaters were kept, and mama would make sure my sister and I looked like the little ladies she was raising us to be. As we would leave, she would tell me to lift my dress as I trampled down the stairs, and shake her head, wondering if my dress would ever come clean again.
I think it's fitting that Mother's Day always falls on a Sunday, because to me, some of my best memories came from Sundays with my mom. To this day, I have a bottle of her musk at home, and I smell it when I feel the need to be close to her. In the day to day, memories fade. Sometimes I find it hard to remember her, who she used to be. I hardly remember her living it at home, being available to me 24/7. There were so many years....that I took advantage of her. But, as an adult, I look back at my childhood, and I know that was her gift to me. She gave me not only her eyes, but also her way of viewing the world.
To the woman I knew then, and the woman I know now,
Happy Mother's Day.
All my love,
