Saturday, May 13, 2006

unattributed.....

ok, so i found this on thehard drive.........each of the usual suspects has had a chance to take credit for these sweet lines...but no takers.......it has languished in my secret blog til now...the eve of mother's day......

Mom


In the kitchen, at the stove, making potato latkes (her favorite breakfast). Brown hair falling onto her large spectacled glasses. She wears a brown jacket and a houndstooth skirt. Conspicuously showing on her heart is her “Ephraim McDowell Wellness Center” I.D. badge. The skillet scrapes against the grille in a sooth rhythm that reminds me the foods almost done. I hand her the olive oil she sent me down to the basement to get. It sizzles and cracks as it is poured onto the gray skillet. It colors the potato pancakes in a golden lather. When they are finished, she always heaps on sour cream. I do too. Without her, I would never have tried it. I love my mom.
I also see my mom in the side yard. Wearing her worst jeans and a paint-stained flannel shirt. The glasses are off. Sweat tinges her hair. The air is humid and the sun is shining a bit too brightly. She is gathering up dead plants from her garden beds and placing them in an old, rusty, red wheelbarrow. She smells faintly of the wild onions that have invaded her roses. In a heavenly voice, she hums the tune “In the Garden.” She can’t sing, but she can sure hum. She always told me that gardening is a good way to relax. I thought gardening? That’s for sissies. But you know what? I tried it one day, and I did enjoy it. Without my mom, I would have never tried it. I love my mom.
Besides the obvious reasons to love my mom (e.g. bringing me INTO this world), I can not thank her enough for how she has expanded the horizons of my world. Trips to Paris, London, and other far-away lands. Taking a visit to the philharmonic. Reading Moby Dick to me at bedtime when I was 7. All of these things helped me to see that there was more to life than what lies in Danville, Kentucky. So I guess, in a way, this memoir is my way of thanking her for all she has done… for making me into the person I am today.

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