Wednesday, March 4, 2009

“Difficult Times Help Me Understand How Infinitely Beautiful Life Is, And That So Many Things Truly Don't Matter"



5 Years.
1826
Days.
43832
Hours.
2629952
Minutes.




We've missed 5 of your Halloween soup parties. You used to be cooking and freezing, cooking and freezing for weeks to prepare for the pilgrimage of trick or treaters that made it to our steamy kitchen to warm their bodies with tomato-potato, cuban black bean, leek, chicken noodle, taco, lentil and corn chowder goodness. But even more, to warm their hearts with your unconditional love.

You've missed 1826 Diet Coke runs down to Crest's. I can't count on you pulling me into the Acura to escort you on your mid-afternoon aspartame rush. Before we'd even get down the hill someone would be calling your big black cell phone with a life crisis that only you could solve. You'd handle it with gentle compassion but make sure you were able to say hi to all the girls who worked the drive thru, whom you knew not only all their names, but about every tattoo, piercing, and when all their boyfriends got out of county. And you'd be sure to get in a joke about how I read the "beverages" sign as beaver-eggs and thought that beavers laid eggs from 1st-3rd grade, all while sipping on your Diet Coke and leaving dark lipstick all over the straw, and sitting in your heated seat--whether it was January or July.

We've missed 43832 of your around the house routines. In the morning hours you'd still be in bed, but insist that we come and say goodbye before we ate the cereal that Dad laid out for us and caught the bus/carpool. This was also the time that you'd give me the head-tilt-raised-eyebrows look that told me my clothes were too tight/short/low. The afternoon hours would always have you sitting in front of the fireplace reading your cases, and inevitably there was always a brightly colored scrunchie pulling your hair on the top of your head that made you look less like a judge for Workforce Services, and more like Stephanie from Full House. But the evening hours were the best because that's when we all got to eat the yummy food you would whip up in no time, and everyone else who craved your endless smile and caring wisdom would go away and we'd have you to ourselves. This was usually when you'd have to help me scramble to do a procrastinated homework project for Mrs. Busco, and not only would it be brilliant, but I'd have so much fun doing it because it would be with you.

But most of all, we've missed 157797166 of the little things that really made you our mom. We've missed the way you'd put your feet up on the dashboard every time dad was driving. We've missed it when you would drop a swear while crossing State Street on the way to dance and you'd always make sure to say "sorry my little darlings". We've missed the way you'd put lipstick on both lips at a time so the stick would get so deformed and eventually break in half. We've missed you frantically searching for your checkbook in the purse that carried every thing you would ever need, but most things that you wouldn't--like the Francs you've had since before France joined the EU. We've missed you dancing with dad in the kitchen to Andrea Boccelli, and loving Emma's detailed rants about middle school, and headbanging with Hannah to ZZ Top. But I've missed you Mom. I miss how you were the only one who knew what I was thinking when I wasn't saying. How you would always pull me onto your lap even though I've been 6 inches taller than you since 7th grade. How you were the only one who really listened for, and got all my jokes.

I miss you.


Can't wait to see you again Mommy.