Remembering my mom
There is something about the wind and pouring rain. Part of me hates it and part of me loves it.
I love this apartment because it's nice and warm and cozy. No strange drafts and freezing rooms. At the same time, I wish I still had a fireplace because today would be a wonderful day to get some apple cider with cinnamon sticks bubbling in the crock pot, and some pumpkin muffins baking in the oven.
And maybe roast a turkey and make some mashed potatoes for dinner.
My mother loved the fall. She loved watching the colors of the leaves change, and she loved going for long walks to watch them fall and collect them. She loved the crazy freezing storms that blew in and out. She loved the first snow of the year.
"Ooooh Heather! Brian! Look!" she would say, " It's raining cats and dogs out there!" Her whole face would light up.
We would run outside and look for sticks to put in the torrents of water rushing through the gutters and chase them down to the end of the block to see which one won.
She would call us back inside with the heat turned up (a little) and hand us piping hot mugs of home made cocoa with marshmallows. She would bake cookies and pies and listen to Joan Baez and sing and light vanilla scented candles. The world outside would be wild and crazy and storm tossed with cold, but inside we would be warm and happy, with the sound of mom singing and dancing and the whole house smelling like all good things.
I miss her.
Sometimes, I can hear her in my head. Waking up early, just to hear the sounds of the wind and the rain, and waiting for the first person to wake up too, to share her happiness with.
"Heather, did you hear it? It RAINED last night!" Her eyes like candles and so happy. I would trudge off to school, cold and grumpy, but knowing that there would probably be fresh baked cookies waiting for me when I came home.
I love this apartment because it's nice and warm and cozy. No strange drafts and freezing rooms. At the same time, I wish I still had a fireplace because today would be a wonderful day to get some apple cider with cinnamon sticks bubbling in the crock pot, and some pumpkin muffins baking in the oven.
And maybe roast a turkey and make some mashed potatoes for dinner.
My mother loved the fall. She loved watching the colors of the leaves change, and she loved going for long walks to watch them fall and collect them. She loved the crazy freezing storms that blew in and out. She loved the first snow of the year.
"Ooooh Heather! Brian! Look!" she would say, " It's raining cats and dogs out there!" Her whole face would light up.
We would run outside and look for sticks to put in the torrents of water rushing through the gutters and chase them down to the end of the block to see which one won.
She would call us back inside with the heat turned up (a little) and hand us piping hot mugs of home made cocoa with marshmallows. She would bake cookies and pies and listen to Joan Baez and sing and light vanilla scented candles. The world outside would be wild and crazy and storm tossed with cold, but inside we would be warm and happy, with the sound of mom singing and dancing and the whole house smelling like all good things.
I miss her.
Sometimes, I can hear her in my head. Waking up early, just to hear the sounds of the wind and the rain, and waiting for the first person to wake up too, to share her happiness with.
"Heather, did you hear it? It RAINED last night!" Her eyes like candles and so happy. I would trudge off to school, cold and grumpy, but knowing that there would probably be fresh baked cookies waiting for me when I came home.