Mothers

New Year’s Eve. She celebrated by playing the numbers game in her head. Mothers. This time it was about mothers.How many had she had? 3. She had known 3 mothers. First her biological mother. She saw her as she had been during the best years–a robust woman with pink cheeks.Once again she felt her mother grab her face. The kiss was rough but she didn’t mind. She liked it and she felt wanted. Her second mother–that had been her aunt. Her aunt, a seemingly frail woman with black and white hair and wrinkled cheeks. Sometimes she had a hard time expressing her thoughts. That was not hard to understand as her life had been full of pain. Her niece would look at her aunt and sometimes she’d catch an expression of undeniable love in the small brown eyes. She would protect her niece no matter what. Her third mother had been born in Odessa, Ukraine. She and her twenty something mother had arrived in the new country when the little girl was 6 years old. Their life was not easy but Nadia achieved the immigrant dream. She worked her way up the ladder. She was a success, respected and admired by all. And then came the unexplained downfall. Nadia then needed a companion, a “daughter” and her neighbor became that “daughter”. They spent most hours of the day together. Their bond was genuine. Then, she was gone. Nadia died one early morning when a candle in her room started a fire. She tried to escape. The firemen found her next to the front door; the house keys were in her hand. 3 mothers. 3 deaths. 3 losses. Important losses. Each one of the mothers still had a life in her heart.

The Cut

The Cut

There you were standing and talking with your friends. There was something different about you. At first, I didn’t know what it was. I looked at you closely. It was your hair. I noticed something different about your hair. Last week it had been longer. Now it looked like a crew cut. You had done it. You went and got a haircut. Why didn’t you let me know? I should have known. I wanted you to tell me. A woman acquaintance approached me. “Yes, what is it?” I asked her sharply. Her laugh was nervous. We stood on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” I apologized.” It’s not your fault. I’m just upset about something. It’s nothing to do with you.”

 

 

 

Rubies

Rubies

He loved me. I knew that my father loved me. When I was 4 years old, he bought me an 18 carat gold and ruby watch. The rubies were beautiful and shiny. “It’s for later, for when you grow up,” he told me. My father had had a hard life; now things were good and prosperous for him. The watch must have symbolized being able to do something for me while he could. No one ever knew when things would turn the other way.Many years later, I lost that watch. Someone took it from me. My love for my father is in my heart, unchanged.  

 

 

Accidental Eavesdropping

Saturday, June 28, 2008: I have accidentally felt and been an eavesdropper. But that has been the only way I have had to find out things about my own family of origin.

Not A Member

Saturday, May 10, 2008: First it was last night’s graduation at TCC, the Old Dominion University. My brother in law got his degree, but I was not invited to the ceremony. Then, this morning. The whole family made a day of it at Busch Gardens, but I was told just as they were getting ready to leave. It makes me feel really warm and fuzzy, like I’m one of them. The cats, the dog and me–us together in the house until the family comes back.

 

The Pizza Slice

Friday, March 7, 2008: I sat down to dinner with my sister and her family. A few minutes earlier I had seen her take 2 small pizzas out of the freezer. I looked at them and wondered: Will I get one this time? After a few minutes in the oven, the pizzas were put on the kitchen counter. Can I have one?, I asked, looking at her husband Dave as he bit into a slice. No, there’s not enough, was her answer.
Whatever happened to sharing?