Memories

 Memories

    It has been an interesting week.  I have already gone public with the news that I am no longer a flip phone user.  Technology is not my friend so the new phone is going to take some getting used to.  But that isn't the real reason I am grieving the loss of my little flip friend.  On that phone were saved messages.  One from my Mom the day before she died and a couple others from my Dad. He leaves epic messages that begin with, Debbie, this is your Father.  A favorite that is saved starts this way then continues with.....did I leave my false teeth under the pillow.....?  I have a good friend that is a technology wizard and he assures me those messages can be saved.

    Last night I was chatting with my Dad about the heat.  Neither of us is a fan.  He said he was miserable but he was thinking about his Mom yesterday and wondered how she managed in the summer months cooking on a wood cook stove with no running water and no electricity.  Cooking 3 meals a day for her family, and big threshing crews.  Hauling water, using an outhouse and caring for small children.  I looked around me and saw how fortunate I am.  I liked hearing his memories.

This morning I was preparing food for our 4th of July dinner.  As I was juicing lemons my wonderful, very simple juicer stopped working.  It is easy to replace, the memories though are something else.  Years ago it was a gift from my Mom.  It was like the one they used at Mel's Diner making that incredible lemonade.  Every time I used it (and I used it often) I would smile thinking of her.

As I was making potato salad (the way my Mom taught me, with a little dab of my Aunt Julia) I was swamped with memories.  I recall waking up to the smell of fried chicken and coming downstairs to see the makings of a picnic well underway.  Back then I didn't think much about how everything was ready for a day in the mountains.  I just knew it was going to be a great day.  I never wondered about how early Mom had gotten up to fry chicken, make a potato salad, pack a picnic basket filled with food, plates, napkins, utensils, and cups.  Nor did I think about the  baseball gloves, bats and balls along with changes of clothing for each of us.  The big drink cooler was filled with ice and lemonade or kool-aid to quench our thirst while we swam, ran, played, hiked (and most likely fought with our siblings)  Sometimes these excursions were combined with getting a load of firewood or we would meet other families and have a day of fun.  

    The anniversary of my Mom's passing was this past week.  It has been 8 years.  So many memories, so many moments.  I realize the loss of a couple of material things that I attached to her are just things.  She is always with me in my heart and my memories.