I Am My Mother's Child

I imagine at 52 years of age it's a little late to be saying, I am my mothers child. I've been grown for years now and yes, I see myself as my mothers child. My mother passed away about four years ago.
I remember being a baby standing on the side of the crib with the fluorescent light beaming against the purple background.

Living in a small apartment in the city of Chicago. We live on a Boulevard. Like most Boulevards in  Chicago, there was a Park was in the middle. My younger mother and father would have picnics back then. Fried chicken, french fried onion rings, potato salad all spread out on a red and white  blanket.
Mom also took us everywhere. Going to the clinics, lunches  packed with salami on toast. Catching Chicago city buses, which ran on electricity. Remembering the sparking high wires as they made their way  through the city in the early 1960's. Getting shots from the clinic my brother, I would scream very loud long before the needle made contact with the skin. The alcohol oder was strong because it was what they used to sanitize equipment during that time. Sometimes she would pick us up from the baby sitter's house, or from school. Remembering taking off all our clothes at the laundromat to be washed. Remembering the neighborhood schools how we would all crowd around the popular and friendly principal. Being taught how to cross on the green light. Summers on the outside with our friends.

Moving away from the large city to the small city. What a different way of life. Mother taking us and registering us for school. Birthday parties  with relatives and friends. Baseball football and basketball in the park. Mom saying, I'm gonna tell your father, which caused us to straighten out right then and there. Being called home for dinner by our first and middle names, of which everyone in the neighborhood knew. Mom behind the stove cooking. Mom praying for us in the middle of the night. Mom was always there. Always smiling, always teaching, always cleaning, forever faithful to my father.

Now I look into my own eyes and see my mother looking back at me, reminding me of simpler times past. Yes we have all of the pictures of those times, yet when I want to see her looking at me, I look in the mirror. It is a cathartic moment for me. When I need some peace away from some of the stress of being an adult with responsibilities  I seek the peace I remember in her eyes, I look in the mirror.
Also mother would walk around the house singing hymns. Many times now, I find myself doing the same.

Thank you God for giving my mother's eyes to always be with me.

 

I Am My Mother's Child!!!