Remembering
Hi, Mom,
Two years have passed. Last year, I had this letter written in my head and revised it countless times before the words finally made it out. This year, I’m staring at a big, blank slate, struggling to string two words together.
I miss you - there are times where I miss you so much that it physically hurts. I think about you - that probably means you’re watching me. Memories abound everywhere - in the house, at the shop, in the car - and catch me offguard, but I cherish those moments. Often, I do wonder what you would be thinking of me as you see me now. With all the struggles and problems I have now and have had in the past, would you still be proud of me? Would you still be happy to see me? To have me as your daughter? There are times where I’m not happy or proud to say I’m your daughter because I feel like such a failure. Is that what I am? A failure?
The year has slid by, the seasons and weather changing as they always do. Time kept moving forward and I tried to keep up with it. I wish I could say things are the same, but that’s not true. NP School decided not to renew my contract in the spring and that was a source of immense pain - it still hurts to think about it. I loved being there - the staff, the parents and the students were a great bunch of people! I miss seeing them and connecting with them. I’ve found a new position at a different school and it’s going okay. There are still doubts in my mind about whether teaching is what I’m meant to do, but I’m working on it. The future is a great unknown.
Brother C moved into his own place - just him and his cat, Gizmo. They’re doing okay. I visit when I can and help with what I can. Dad is planning to move over to his mother’s house soon, so he can work on the house. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing - I still have things to take care of before I can live on my own again. No, there’s still no boyfriend in sight - I can’t find the boyfriend committee, either. (Are they with you? Plotting? Planning?)
Please don’t worry too much about me - I think your sisters, especially J and C, have taken over in that department. Visits with them - even if on the spur of the moment - always seem to involve food. That must be the Anderson trait. You are remembered with fondness and love by all of your family and friends. Memories of you are part of conversations whenever you cross our minds.
Your lapdog, Molly, passed on - she’s probably there with you and the other dogs of your life. Hopefully, she’s in your lap being cuddled, because she was the dog that you could have the whole thing in your lap to cuddle and not just the head. Aunt J and Uncle K’s dogs, Duke and Jester, have become important to me - I think I’m the unofficial dog-sitter, anyway. They are good dogs and you’d like Jester - he wants heat, so he lays in the patches of bright sunlight and buries himself under the blankets. I remember how cold you always were and how you were always trying to get warm. Duke is just playful - he and I have a thing for playing tug-of-war. (He wins, of course.)
I’ll be at the state fair today and I’ll be thinking about you with every bite of a pronto, pup, French fries, cream puff and homemade potato chips. I’ll find the Christmas ornaments for your niece and nephew, D and M, and think about you as I walk around the Grandstand, International Bazaar and Heritage Square. I will remember you as I visit that preferred popstand, see the dogs in the pets building, walk through the food building and pass by the slingshot-ride-thing that Dad always tried to talk you into.
I love you, Mom! I will keep you in my heart and mind forever.