| |
As I look back so many years ago, mama and me, we were all we had. As I grew up we developed a closeness that enabled her to tell me about her childhood life. She would say her childhood cast a warm glow around some events, as she never met a thought she didn't share. Our life together, beginning very early, took on a regimen of order. We went through the daily ritual of housework, trapping me into labor that was never done. I was young and could not understand this passion that consumed her. I would easily become lazy and find excuses for not doing my chores. Sometimes, I would 'skate' across our shiny wood floors in my stocking feet pretending to be a beautiful ballerina. "You look like an angel," mama would say, smiling.
Every Friday afternoon we would make brownies or some other sweet treat. As she retrieved her favorite jadite bowl from the cupboard, she was smiling as she caught the excitement on my face. As she assembled all the ingredients, like so many times before, she cautioned me not to handle the eggs. "You might break one," she would say. She taught me the importance of not being wasteful and getting the most out of a little. It didn't matter that we had to be so cautious. All I cared about was being with her, so happy and a bit smug to have her undivided attention. I can remember, though, the times when there were no brownies or cinnamon bread to be made, or the times when I did not talk of dessert. These were one of the few unspoken moments for us, but I did not love her any less.
After all the ingredients were in the bowl we would venture out to the back porch stoop and mama would hand me the wooden spoon. "Okay, baby," she would say, "start mixing and keep on mixing until the batter is smooth and shiny." These were the times when she glowed. She loved telling her stories and, as if by magic, she became a most articulate raconteur, speaking lovingly of her family and their life together. She had 12 brothers and sisters and if anyone knew the definition of 'hard times', it was mama. As she so often put it though, "these were the best years of my life." I remember one time she said of her father, "I think I used up my heart loving him so." Finally, the pan was made ready and together we would lift the large bowl and pour in the shiny batter. The oven was more than ready and as I licked the spoon and the baking began, the chocolate aroma overtook my senses, showing such power of the ordinary.
The years finally began to take her away from me. A light still gleamed in her still beautiful, sky blue eyes and as I would kiss her lips lightly, I would reflect that these were the same lips that comforted me in my times of need. I finally realized that I had become the mother of the child. I became her mother because she needed one more than I did. Together, we defied all logic. She smiled less often now, but if I looked real close I could see a slightly upturned curve to her lips, so instantly, then it was gone. Was this a smile, so fleeting, or was it my imagination? Either way, I believed it as I had seen it and it made my heart sing.
In the foyer of my home I have a beautiful antique mirror. It has a gold, gilt-edged frame and even though it is very old, it still serves its purpose very well. You see, it is magic. Every time I walk past and glance in, I see mama, and she is smiling, that same beautiful smile, just as she did for so many years of my life. I walk away content, content that her smile is not evanescent, as I thank God that every time I look into that mirror, I can still see her face.
'one must wait until evening to see how beautiful the day has become' Sophocles
|
Help Us Stop Plagiarism -
Nearly all works at PnP are original. However a few people choose to plagiarize.
To check, choose a phrase from the work, then either drag and drop to the search box or copy and paste.
click on search and works at Google will be shown which match. Just to be sure, please do this before
you recommend or rate the work highly...
|
 |
|
|
|
Select a Random Work
from Stories
|
|
Welcome !
Contest Winner
