Did My Mama Like to Dance?

I think about my mother every day. But I don’t talk to her. Not so she can hear me anyway. I can’t. But, oh, how I wish I could. My mother passed away and every day I keep experiencing things that I need to tell her. Things I cannot believe I never shared with her - but I was too young to know them yet. I hadn’t lived long enough. And she didn’t live long enough.

I have five children, one that she never met. And I can’t tell her the words I so long to tell her. So I stuff them in my throat or I tell parts of them to my husband, my girlfriends, my surrogate mothers and although each individual outlet is completely worthy and I am so grateful for them, they are what they are - substitutes. These are the things I wish I could tell my mother . . . what I want to pick up the phone and share or hop in the car and say over snacks on her blue sofa.

Mom, I can’t believe you never told me about catching a kid’s throw up at two in the morning. It’s gross. Really gross. And I am pretty sure I was a Class A Whiner . . . so thank you. I wish you could have seen Mosely’s little concerned four year old face. It wasn’t funny, but she was so shocked by what was coming out of her mouth at such an alarming rate of speed that she completely stopped crying and looked more in awe than disgust. She talked about it for days. "I just threw up right on the floor!" (Three times.) You were the first person I wanted to talk to about it. But I couldn’t. So I sat on the floor, taco salad throw up surrounding me, paper towels in hand, and wept. And I wasn’t crying because the job was foul. I just miss you.

And Mom, Piper has teeth - two of them! She shoves everything in her mouth and just gnaws on whatever it is. I’m using cloth diapers on her - can you believe that? And now cloth diapers have velcro! I remember you said your favorite baby shower gift for your first born, my oldest brother, was a diaper service for an entire year. You said they just came right to your house and took away your soiled diapers and left you freshly laundered ones. How lovely! I still have one ducky diaper pin from our baby days, but I don’t even know whose it was. Did I sleep through the night at an early age? Piper Finn just keeps waking up randomly. None of my other babies did this. Is it normal? Oh, thank you for rocking me to sleep and kissing my downy head and singing me songs because I know you did. I tell Piper about you but she will only know you through me and that robs her of so much wisdom and beauty that it makes my heart ache.

Spring is here and the mountains are covered in color - so many shades of green. London comments on the trees every time we cross the mountain. You would laugh to hear her imitations. She looks just like me and sounds just like Kevin. What kind of future is that for a girl? She climbs trees methodically and draws pictures all day. I want to dress her in my old Red Riding Hood cape and take her picture in the tree outside our window. Remember the photo of me just like that? I think we would look identical then. I’m so glad you let me climb trees and play with dolls and sleep in tents and wear moon boots when they didn’t match my clothes. I know what a tremendous influence I will be on my daughters because I know what a tremendous influence you have been on me. What a beautifully heavy burden it is. I so wanted to be able to walk this path with you instead of without you.

Riley talks about you the most of any of the children. Of course, her memory is more full of you and I wish that were so for each of my children. I am so sorry that I have to shape your memory in their minds. You opened your heart so quickly and so wide to Riley that no one else could help but follow suit. She had sleepovers and shopping trips and time together with you that I covet for my other children. I need to hear you remind me of how I liked boys when I was her age and how I wore long johns under my dresses and listened to the New Kids on the Block. You never teased me about my poodle-like haircut, my terrible complexion or my hyper-color t-shirts and neon yellow shorts. I want to be more gracious and open armed to my girls, more like you and less like me.

And I don’t even know how to mother the little boy that is Bergen. You couldn’t believe we were really going to give him "Hawkeye" as a middle name, but it fits. It really fits. He is charming and wild and fearless and heart-breakingly handsome. He hugs with abandon and cries the same way. You barely had the chance to know him - I don’t even think he had hair for you to see. Kevin cuts his hair now - in a big boy style. His body is covered in cuts and bruises and I frankly don’t know what caused half of them. He makes us laugh and I know he would crack you up too. He loves Legos - like your boys. Oh, what I would give to tap into your experience raising boys - three unruly but outstanding men they have become. You would be proud, you were proud, of them. And we all knew it.

The irony never leaves me - what I most want, I can’t have. I want your presence, your support, your encouragement, your unfailing good humor and positive attitude. In short, you. And what I have instead is all of you wrapped up in me. And it’s tangled up in here and hard to pull out most days, but you are here. And since it is all I have, it’s what I’ll take.