Memories

The last few weeks have just been passing by and I haven't been paying attention . . . it seems that is when something happens to stop me in my tracks - forcing me to pay attention. And, again, it happened. Last Wednesday, I noticed a woman walking toward me, along the sidewalk. to my left. She was young, her hair pulled back into a loose pony tail and she was very pregnant. Talking on her cell phone, I caught the end of her conversation just as we both reached the store door. "Gotta go, Mom. I'll talk to you soon. Bye."

Those nine words were like a sucker punch. I struggled to catch my breath.

Over the past seven weeks, I have experienced my own personal trifecta: Mother's Day, my mother's birthday and the anniversary of her death 18 years ago. 18 years and yet, sometimes, for a few moments, the pain is as searing as it was on June 20, 1993. What I wouldn't give to have one more conversation with my mother. I never spoke to my mother on a cell phone. My mother would be 79 this year and I can't 'see' her at that age; she remains frozen in time for me. I can't move her, in my mind, to being an older woman. This realization makes me sad.

I held the door for the young woman; she smiled at me and said thanks. I hope she has decades to share her child with her mother. I hope they will share a lifetime of moments that will become precious memories in the years to come.

I miss my mother. But by way of memories she remains with me, ever day, in different and often unexpected ways.