It’s been six months since Mom passed away. Such a short, and yet, long time ago. I miss her. I miss her quirky little habits and her gentle ways; the constant shuffling of slippered feet coming and going. The cloud of perfumed powder she loved to use.
Of course, I still hear Mom sounds but most of those I know are coming from inside my heart. Yet, there have been some things that I can’t say are just me wishing.
Things like; after a thank-god-winter- is-leaving canoe ride around a lake (without falling in) Man-Wonder and I returned home to find the mobile smelling like a bouquet of flowers. No reason for it to be there and it wasn’t a faint smell. It was strong enough to stop both of us in our tracks and flood our sun-warmed heads with memories of Mom. It was like she had just freshly poofed with her powder and was standing beside us. I don’t think the place has smelt so nice since.
So where did it come from? Did some burglar break in, loaded in Mom’s powder and wander through the mobile rubbing themself all over everything before leaving? (Like Euwh)
If you believe in souls, in spirits, in life after death, then it makes sense. If you don’t, well, when things like that happen common sense will be dancing the jig with Bob Marley in your head.
Another time, maybe a month ago while I was home alone I had one of those moments. I’d left the kitchen, gone to the bedroom and then come back into the kitchen. Sitting right in the middle of the floor was a tiny, brilliant-blue, stick-on tag. What a brain-zing because I hadn’t seen one of those battery covers since the last one I’d changed a hearing aid battery in Mom’s hearing aid. . .
So how did it just happen to show up in the middle of the kitchen floor during the few minutes I was gone from the room?
What do you think, or are you mentally waltzing with Led Zeppelin?
Me? I’m calling them sweet little hellos from my best friend. Someone I miss every single day. And if she wants to drop off little hellos now and then I ain’t going to complain.
Only I wish she could do it in person.
Mom at her favorite sport – the Scrabble board.
เกมส์ต่อสู้ Said:
on May 26, 2014 at 8:36 am
I drop a leave a response each time I appreciate a article on a site or if I
have something to contribute to the discussion. Usually it is a result of the passion communicated in the article I browsed.
And on this post To reach out and touch just one more
time. . . | Cay Mayo writes. I was moved enough to post a thought
😉 I do have a couple of questions for you
if it’s allright. Could it be just me or
do some of the comments look as if they are written by
brain dead folks? 😛 And, if you are writing on other online
sites, I would like to follow everything fresh you have to post.
Could you list the complete urls of your social sites like your Facebook page, twitter feed,
or linkedin profile?
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caymayowrites Said:
on May 27, 2014 at 9:37 pm
Thanks for your comment about my blog.
There are no other urls or connections for this blog or me. This is it. Just me and my words. Once a week. Here. Simple. A brief moment of time. 🙂
As to your other comment — I believe everyone is entitled to their own thoughts and opinions.
I gotta’ wonder though – if you think they are brain dead, how are they able to write their thoughts down?
Now that’s worth pondering over eh?
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Anonymous Said:
on March 19, 2014 at 5:16 am
Makes me wanna cry and laugh at the same time. Your writing is always refreshing! Keep us updated with any more visits from Grandma. Xo
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caymayowrites Said:
on March 19, 2014 at 8:22 am
Thanks and will do 🙂
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