Day 79

My mother would shower, put undergarments on, her shoes and lift a full length beautiful sheer or satiny evening dress over her head, brush her hair and put on lipstick. Voila, ready to play. I would sit on the top of her bed and talk with her, sometimes anxious that she was going out and leaving me alone with Daddy, sometimes wishing I were going, too, but always proud of how beautiful she was.
I was also always thrilled to see her walk out in front of the orchestra, eye contact with the conductor, eye contact with the concert mistress. Music would begin, eventually her arms would rise with the flute and beauty would come out of her. I would get goose bumps, tear up, my Dad would squeeze my hand.
Saturday, Annie and I drove down to Guilford, braving the wind and rain in order to help Mom pack up those orchestra dresses and find them new homes. One by one Annie pulled them out from the back of the closet. The first one we brought out was coral. It had a long waist with 25 buttons between the collar and v waist. It was some kind of silk wool blend and the skirt was flowy and the sleeves long. I don’t remember it. Mom remembered where she bought it, what she played the first time she wore it. Annie held it up and I took pictures of it. Each one we took out was a little bit more elegant, a little more graceful, a little wispier. She had made a couple of them. I remember a lot of them. Each one brought new memories for Mom to share.
“Remember...”
“What happens at this age is you realize all you have is a past. You don’t want to think about the future,” she confided in us.
“You have a present Momma.”
“Yes, I do.”
“And Jean, you have and rich and wondrous past.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears and she placed her hand on Annie’s arm. “I’ve been lucky; I’ve had great people in my life.” There are four or five people who count as Mom’s other kids, Annie is the longest lasting.
My Mother got tired by 5 or so and needed a nap and Annie and I wanted to get through Hartford before the sun went down, so we left her to go down by herself and nap.
I walked out of that house with the same feeling of pride I had listening to her play, but a new extra feeling was present, absolute fear at leaving her alone for she might fall and I wouldn’t be there to pick her up.










Bubbles are the opposite. Today was wonderful. I know the pictures and the story don't match, but enjoy them both.