If My Mommy Was Alive
If my mommy was alive I'd probably have picked her up from the airport 'round 'bout Tuesday. She'd be all excited and jittery about coming and she'd be in new stuff from head-to-toe in that simple, country folk way she had about her. See...when she was going somewhere she considered "big time" she believed in wearing all new stuff. If it was just jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt I bet it was brand spanking new right down to her sneakers cuz baaaaaaaby...coming to visit her only baby girl and son-in-law all the way up in the DC area on a plane was BIG.TIME.
Her hair would be freshly done up and curled tight because she did her own hair and rolled it herself. See...she didn't trust other people in her head to do anything besides me because she always felt like stylists didn't know what they were doing since most of their heads looked a mess to her.
She would have a bag full of stuff she carried on the plane just for me and Robby. Heck...she woulda even brought Jaru and Lucy little things she'd picked up over the course of time since we'd last seen her that she thought we'd like. There would probably be some kinda cake sliced and wrapped up in aluminum foil in that bag too laying on top so as not to get smushed cuz she knew Robby liked that kinda cake and she made it for him at home specially cuz she knew I wouldn't let her cook NARY A 'NUTTIN while here.
She'd be all shiny with extra moisturizer on her face because she always told me that the planes dry you out so you can't wear anything on your face 'sides extra moisturizer and to "Drink lots of water Monnie...I read that them planes dry you out something serious!"
And she'd be glowing and grinning from ear-to-ear.
I'd be standing as close to her gate as security would have allowed me to be because I knew she got a bit confused sometimes with so many people moving fast around her. She'd see me and grin. All proud and big like she always did and she'd squeeze me all tight and stand back and take a good look at me and touch my face.
And I'd let her. God knows I'd let her.
Then...she'd walk with me to baggage claim with her arm around my waist talking the whole time animatedly, catching me up on on her flight because she ALWAYS talked to everybody and she'd know her seat mate's life story and share, whispering if it was something she thought scandalous.
And I'd let her hold on to me tight like that walking even though it would be awkward because she only reached up to my arm pit and I'd have to slow my stride considerably to accomodate her all up under me like that.
But I'd let her. God knows I'd let her.
And she'd point out her luggage and stand back while I got it and then she'd try her hardest to not do too much because she knew I HATED it when she did too much and ended up getting in my way.
Cuz sometimes I can be an azz.
But mommy I swear...I'm working on that. I'm much better now mommy. I'm much better.
And we'd drive home with her chattering away the entire time. She'd comment on how nice I keep up my truck and how she likes how I'm wearing my hair even though it's miiiiiighty short. "You're moisturizing it often right baby? Remember you gotta keep it moisturized at least twice a day. And don't let her cut so much next time. Your hair is your glory." And she'd talk about my skin and how "You look more and more like your Great-Grandmother every time I see you with that red up underneath your color..."
And she'd ask about Robby and Jaru and Lucy and chat about everyday stuff like we didn't speak several times a day every.single.day on the phone and she didn't already know everything about everything going on in my life. She'd ask me if I'd made him a good dinner last night and if he'd had a good breakfast, "You feeding him right huh? That's important. A man needs to know his wife cares about him enough to make sure he's healthy. They complain, but they love it. You take care of Robby...he's a good man."
We'd pull up to our home and she'd point out how nice our curb appeal was. She'd go on and on about the stuff I've planted like I was a genius planting..."You always know how to make it look so pretty and natural looking like it's supposed to baby." And I'd smile softly watching the soft wrinkles in her face. The way the wind made her curls sway, the way the creases in her jeans were there because she believed one should always iron their jeans.
And my mommy would walk into my home like she'd never been here before because she had this way of making everything seem new and fresh and alive and I'd feed her something light while she pulled out our "gifts." Some ceramic something, a program from the church house that she saved for me to see something she wanted me to see, a golf thingy she saw and got for Robby cuz she knew he loved to play golf even if she didn't know what the thingy was, a golf shirt for him, a towel with a golf ball embroidered on it. A pretty colored shirt she saw and knew would look good on me, "I almost got it in pink, you know I love you in pink, but this coral color seemed more like you...you can wear it with jeans or a skirt, you should wear more skirts, you look so pretty in skirts. I almost bought you this cute bag I saw but I know how funny you are about your bags but I think you would have liked it, I should have bought it anyway and you coulda just took it back. Yall have a Macy's out here don't you? It's Dillard's yall don't have. Yeah...I should have bought it. I'll see if they still have it when I get back and send it to you..."
I'd let her talk. Lord...I would let her talk. Late into the night, early in the morning. I'd let her talk and talk and talk and I would talk to and with her. I wouldn't get annoyed God. I wouldn't.
Mommy I'm much better.
And then I'd get her settled upstairs and she'd be too excited to take a nap just then when she saw all of her "gifts" in her room that I'd purchased for her since the last time I'd seen her, but I'd insist she lay down for at least an hour before Robby got home because we were going to dinner and she'd be up later than usual.
And she'd grumble and say "I'm the mama." but she'd pull up her hair, wash her face and put on something "softer than jeans" and lay her head on the silk pillowcase and rest up for later. She'd smile at the flowers she knew I'd arranged for her on her nightstand and touch them softly. Pink roses.
And I'd kiss her on her soft cheek and back out of her room watching her, close the door behind me and sit and wait for her to wake up so I could touch her and hug her and kiss her and listen to her chatter and laugh and go on and on and on about the simplest of things she found joy in and have coffee on the deck with her the SECOND she got out of bed no matter how early it was and take her shopping and cook for her and take her to the spa and to lovely restaurants for lunch and to the Botanic Gardens, etc. etc. etc.
All of that just as soon as she woke up. Just as soon as I heard her stirring upstairs. I'd be right there wearing that new coral shirt she brought me even if it had lace on it. Right up under her. Loving her smell. Loving her smiles. Loving HER simply being HERE.
Happy Mother's Day.