re-post number three: july 18

I posted this on my mother's birthday this past July.

She would have been 62 years old and counting in 2009, a fact which I fear conceptualizing. I still have this image of her in my head as an incredibly exuberant woman with a heart and a mind that would never grow tired or weary. And so the image never will.

[Ten things I remember about my mother, on her birthday:

1) She left coffee rings on everything. Every surface. Notebook paper, napkins, tabletops, even clothes. One day in high school I ended up in homeroom with a coffee ring imprinted on my backpack. We all gave up on trying to stop it.

2) She appreciated lyrics just like I do. A song meant nothing to her unless she could see it as a piece of poetry as well. We used to talk about our lives in lyrical terms. I miss that, but I have friends who understand this strange part of me and humor me.

3) She believed in synchronicity. While never removing any worth from human agency, from the decisions of the day to day, she knew that people and places and even things come into our lives for very distinct reasons. Little signs, everywhere. The moments which line up in sequence to mean something incredibly special. I look for those moments; they're real.

4) She loved making frozen yogurt pies: graham cracker crust, vanilla frozen yogurt, chocolate chips, and colored sprinkles...set in freezer for an hour, voila. Nothing made her happier on a random Friday night. Well, except maybe a frozen margarita.

5) She wore nothing but linen dresses in the summer. In pastel colors, matched with long ropy necklaces and bauble-y rings.

6) She smelled like gardenias; it was the bath powder she used religiously.

7) She wrote poetry in the margins of novels; I still find surprise verses when I read her books today.

8) Here's how she typically appeared in the evenings after a long day at work: lounged on the blue couch in her den, in a cotton jogging suit and socks, headphones in her ears (they came off a big radio...this was long before IPODness), and a journal on her lap. I actually have a photo of this somewhere.

9) She believed firmly that each of her daughters would eventually end up with the right man to love them forever. She never got to meet them, but Greg and Jason (my brothers in law) have already proven her so correct. Now there's a lot of pressure on me to fill the third slot. I'm not necessarily pursuing this particular venture anytime in the immediate future. But the memory of the kind of love she offered me always gives me strength in these questions. Just recently a lot about love and relationships has started to make more sense than ever before.

10) She looked to Saints for love and comfort and support. It was beautiful, the faith she had. The more I try to dissect it, the less I understand it. So I visualize it as something magical, something that was hers to understand.