Posts Tagged ‘ mother ’

Eeeh Gads! Mother Takes Us To Town

Wednesday, July 11th, 2012

“Watch Out For Mother!”
http://www.artmojos.com

Today I am thinking of my childhood mother which is of course the same woman who now sits silently in my house in her fancy box on my glass table.

I am remembering how one day Mom piles all 6 of us little kids into our 1950’s station wagon and we drive to the Cash Grocery Store to shop.

When we are finished, we all scramble back into the car and Mom backs out of the parking spot. But, something unusual happens.

There is a loud ripping, clunking, banging sound as the car lifts off the ground and up into the air, pauses then smacks itself down on the ground, again with a BAM!

As usual, Mother notices nothing. She keeps backing out, turns the nose of the car to the street and ambles it out onto the road.

I’m screaming, ‘Mommy, Mommy, you ran over something big!’ (more…)

My Mother Is Missing!

Wednesday, July 4th, 2012

“My Mother At 88 Years Old” 2010

“My mother is missing!”

I’m turning in circles.

Bill opens the door from his studio and asks why I’m screaming.

When I tell him “My Mother is Missing!” he says, “Well, I think she will be OK.”

I’m imagining I tell someone I don’t know, that “My mother is missing!”

“Oh my God, your mother is missing?” they might say.

“It’s not so bad, she’s dead already,” I would answer. (more…)

Mother And The Chinese Doctors

Monday, April 30th, 2012

Mom's Chinese Doctor

 

My mother and I thought it was a good idea at the time.

I say, “Mom. Let’s go down the mountain and see a Chinese herbalist and get me some Chinese herbs to mix up and brew. I know they’ll make me feel better.”

“Good idea, honey,” my mother says. “You always have such good ideas.”

(This all happened many lives ago, while I was divorcing my second and last husband, and I was a physical and emotional wreck. I needed a cure.)

Off we chug; down the mountain to a quirky place called Hillcrest where I quickly find just the right little shop for me. It’s dark inside.  From the ceiling hang swaths of  dried plants. Glass jars packed with ground, pulverized, and shaved herbs (and probably beetles and dung and dragonfly heads), sit on shelves.

Oh yum. I forget all about my unhappiness with the Bad Husband.  (more…)


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