The First Thanksgiving

Tomorrow is the day I had been dreading since my mother died in June. It would be the first Thanksgiving without her. My mother was the driving force in my family, and for me, mom was the sun, the moon, the stars and everything brilliant in the universe. I drove up to the cabin, telling my brothers and sisters I had to work so I didn’t have to be reminded mom wasn’t at the table. It had been a year of loss. My marriage crumbled, I had a miscarriage, and I had even lost myself. When mom died, she took something of me with her. I didn’t know who I was without her on this earth. I didn’t know how to function not hearing her gentle voice guiding my day. I didn’t know how to be happy without her gregarious laughter. Mom’s laughter was infectious, you couldn’t help laughing yourself, even if you didn’t know the joke. I knew I should be thankful for something, but I couldn’t think of a thing. Just the thought of the rest of my life without her brought hot raindrops running down my face, nearly blinding me. I couldn’t breathe.

It was unseasonably warm and the leaves clung to the branches. They were shades of every fall color, but to me they looked dull. They were a reminder of the death and lifelessness winter would soon bring. I pushed on the gas pedal and watched it climb to sixty, seventy and then eighty. Maybe I would lose control of the car and crash. Ninety, a hundred, the speed of the landscape became blurry. Instinct took over and I slowed for the next curve up the winding road. As much as I wanted the abyss of death, I couldn’t let my mom down. She wouldn’t want me to end my life, not on purpose, and not accidentally on purpose. Familiar road signs came and went. There was something cathartic in the drive. I couldn’t be with my family. I couldn’t pretend that life went on when I missed her so much. They say it gets easier, but I can’t see a way through the grief. How does it get easier? My mom will never answer the phone when I call, she won’t greet me at the door when I visit and she won’t ever make me a cup of cocoa ever again.

I pulled into the narrow lane leading to our family cabin. I passed row after row of empty cabins which were shuttered for the season. There were a few people who lived here year round but with the nearest town nearly an hour away, most preferred life in a city where there was more to do than watch the snowflakes fall upon the fading grass. The hours of wintertime would be hard to fill when there was only the sound of crisping glass echoing in the freezing night and the crackling sound of wood burning in the fireplace. I pulled to a stop and sat in the car. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go in after all.

Everywhere I went, a memory of mom taunted my pain, daring me to give up my grief. I watched auburn leaves dancing across the porch and the leaves reminded me of my mother’s brilliant hair. Grandpop always said God never invented a better color than the color of mom’s hair. He found a leaf once that very color. He kept it pressed in his bible. Mom put that bible, filled with grandpop’s most precious memories, tucked securely in his crossed arms before they closed the lid of his coffin. She told me she wanted him to have his best memories with him when he arrived at the pearly gates. I hoped Grandpop remembered to greet mom when she arrived, her head of flaming hair waving around her shoulders.

I opened the car door to the gentle rustling leaves. I heard some birds off in the distance, flying away from the chill in the air. The stillness was comforting. I didn’t have to pretend I was all right, that life without my mother was acceptable or even bearable. If I listened hard enough, I could almost hear her laughter in the distance. She loved being here, walking in the woods and around the lake. She loved racing Angel, her little Yorkie, back to the house for a treat. Angel always won, but they both acted like it was ever a contest. Mom couldn’t bear to get another dog after Angel died. She never raced back to the cabin after that, preferring to take the time to count the leaves and take notice of every blossom as she walked past. Mom knew every tree, every bush and every flower. Mom knew every seasonal neighbor, who had kids, who were expecting kids, who loved who under the starlit sky and who wouldn’t be back next season. I could feel mom in the air. It was almost as if she had never died.

I gathered my groceries and unlocked the door. There wasn’t time to entertain my grief, I had to get everything inside and a fire going or it would be a very cold night. There were only a couple hours of daylight left. There weren’t any streetlamps to light your path. The sky was overcast so when the sun went down, night would fall hard. There is no darkness greater than the dark night of one’s soul, and I was surely going to face that tonight. I opened the door and expected to smell the musty odor of a dusty cabin. I didn’t think anyone had been here this past summer. Instead, I inhaled the familiar smell of lavender. Mom loved the lavender bushes outside the cabin windows. There were several pieces of lavender still hanging to dry, just where my mom had left them. The cabin remained untouched since the last time she was here. Her favorite sunhat hung from a nail by the door. Her boots and sandals were neatly placed underneath. Time stood still in the cabin. No one told it she wasn’t coming back.

I put my groceries away. There was a half gallon of chunky milk in the fridge, along with some rotted vegetables. I grabbed some Lysol and cleaned out the remnants of my mother’s last meal, now an unrecognizable mess. I threw everything out, containers and all. I put my bottle of vodka in the freezer, and opened a Sterling Hill pinot noir. I poured myself a glass, draining it without stopping for a breath. I poured another and quickly drained that as well. I started a fire and it wasn’t long before the heated tendrils reached out to touch the cool night air, warming it. I sat in my mother’s favorite overstuffed chair and sobbed with great heaving gasps. I wailed and let my grief release all the pain I had been holding in since my mother’s heart attack. I cried into my glass of wine, wiping away my tears on my sleeve until I didn’t have the energy to release one more tear. It was exhausting.

I went into her bedroom. An outfit was lain out on her bed as if she would be back soon to put it on. I picked it up and threw it in the fire. I went into the bathroom and her worn shirt was on top of the hamper. I picked it up, burying my face in it and inhaled deeply. It smelled like her. I took off my sweater and put her top on next to my skin. This is the closest I would ever be to her for the rest of my life. I put my sweater on over mom’s blouse. I opened up the medicine cabinet and threw away her old prescriptions. I picked up her brush and ran it through my chestnut hair like mom did when she was braiding it. I pretended mom was still brushing my hair. If felt good to pretend that just for a moment, it was her hand guiding the brush. I heard a knock at the door.

I went to see who would interrupt my solitude. I peeked out the window in case it was a nefarious sort. It was Mrs. Waterson, one of the few people who lived here year round. I don’t know why she would want to live here all alone since the death of her husband, especially since no one would know if she needed medical help, but it didn’t seem to bother her. I had barely opened the door when she burst through, grabbing me in a fierce hug.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry about your mom. She was one of the good ones.” I lingered in her embrace. The Waterson’s were my summer family. “I haven’t seen you since the funeral. No one came up this summer and it just wasn’t the same without you all. I get it though, your mom loved being here and it’s tough to be around the things and people your mom loved so much. Want some company?” She asked as she breezed by me. I didn’t have a chance to tell her what I wanted was to be alone. “I’ll make us some tea.” She went about her tea making, ignoring the open bottle of wine on the table. I pulled out a couple of mugs for us, and mom’s mug too. It wouldn’t feel right to have a talk without her mug sitting at the table.

“Honey, what are you doing up here without your family, and on Thanksgiving for heaven’s sake?” She asked sincerely.

“I couldn’t deal with the family celebrating a holiday in which you are compelled to be thankful for something. This has been the worst year of my life. I have nothing to be thankful for and I’m not going to pretend I do.” I replied. I spooned way too much sugar in my tea. “Really, this year has sucked. My marriage is gone, my mom is gone and I almost had a baby, which by the way is gone! So tell me, what the hell do I have to be thankful for?” I said with far more force than I intended.

“Oh honey, you have had a time of it, no doubt about it. I’m sorry you’ve had such pain in so short of a time. I wish I could tell you life gets easier, but the fact is, life is damn hard. Just when you think you catch a break, you have a hard time catching your breath. Sap and I finished raising the kids, we paid off the mortgage and thought we could sit back and enjoy the lake and the grandkids. We did for a few months before the cancer came. Sometimes life just isn’t fair. Hell, most of the time life isn’t fair.” She patted my hand. “But you are right about one thing, you shouldn’t have to pretend to be thankful when you aren’t.”

Tears streamed down my face. Mrs. Waterson got up to get me a tissue. “I can’t do life without her. I can’t get up each morning and think I have something to look forward to, like I have a life, or goals, or anything that makes life worth living. I’m all alone! She left me alone!” I was surprised by the amount of anger I had welled up inside.

“I’ve known your mother since we were children and our parents came up to this lake together. I know she’s dead. My brain knows it but my heart can’t quite come around to that idea. Your mom has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I still think the phone ringing is going to be her, telling me about her next big idea. I look over to this cabin and I think of your mom just sitting in her chair, reading the latest Stephen King or Stephen Koontz book. When I saw the smoke swirling around the chimney I swear for a moment I thought it was her. I know she isn’t here, but it still feels like she is. I loved your mom like she was my own sister and truth be told, her death hit me harder than did Sap’s. The one thing I do know is that your mom did not leave you alone. She left you with a lifetime of her love and strength enough to get you through the rest of your life. People aren’t meant to stay by your side your whole life through. They are meant to pass through, and hopefully leave you a better person than they found. Your mom did that for you”

I pondered her words. I feel mom around me everywhere I go. Maybe it hurts so bad because I can’t come to terms with what my mind tells me is true. My mind says my mom is dead. She is gone. She’s not here. Everything else, especially my heart, tells me my mom is still with me. She’s in my every breath, my every thought. She’s in the air that I breathe. My nostrils smell her in the lilacs, her scent remains on her clothes. Society is telling me to move on, that she is gone but she is everywhere I am. There are remnants of her looking back at me in the mirror. My voice is her voice. I have her idioms in my speech. I catch myself saying her words and I do some of my daily tasks they way she did them, how she taught me to do them. How can she be gone? How can I move on?

“Well honey, I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but I can’t have you spending Thanksgiving alone with them. I’ll expect you over to dinner around 4pm tomorrow. Colton is bringing dinner. I know he’d love to see you again.” She got up, clearing the table of our teacups. She gave me another hug before she left out the door. I poured myself the rest of my wine. I was suddenly very tired. I felt as if I couldn’t keep my eyes open another minute. I downed this glass of wine as easily as the first and readied myself for bed. I decided to sleep in mom’s room. After all, in a way it is my room now. I drifted off to sleep with an ease I’ve not felt in months.

My mother appeared to me dressed in a flowing white gown. Her hair lay on her shoulders, moving slightly with the breeze. She was covered in yellow and white light so brilliant the sun paled in comparison and yet it didn’t burn my eyes. She held out her arms to me and I wanted to go to her but I was just out of reach. I yelled for her to come closer so I could reach her. I stretched my arms as far as they would go but she stayed just out of reach. She crossed her arms over her heart and then she drifted away. She never spoke, not a single word. When I awakened, I was crying, with tears streaming down my face. I didn’t know you could cry in your sleep. I had a happy life with my parents. I knew little of sorrow. My heart was broken, shattered. I was going to be shattered until my dying day. I continued crying into my pillow, in the very place mom’s head had once lain. I did not want to get up. I saw no point to it. I wondered if I could lay here and will myself to die. I read somewhere that’s what the Native American elders did. They picked a day and time to die, and on that day they performed some rituals with their family and took to their bed. They quietly died in their sleep so peacefully their blankets remained undisturbed.

All across the nation, moms were getting up to prepare a feast for family gatherings. There would be laughter, love and fun. Everyone would eat too much. Not me, not here and not today. Not ever again. I hadn’t laughed in months. When I smiled, it was forced. When my mom died, everyone was so nice, so caring. It was overwhelming when all I wanted was to be left alone. I had to go back to work the very next week and it was miserable to walk in the office with everyone staring at me with pity in their eyes. As the days went on, I walked into the office because that was what I had to do, what was expected of me. I went through the motions of living. The doctor said I was depressed and put me on an antidepressant, but it didn’t help so I quit taking it. Friends would call, inviting me out here and there but I declined all invitations. It wasn’t long before the phone stopped ringing. Everyone says it gets easier. When I go home at night, I still cry as if I’d just heard the news. When the phone does ring, I still expect it to be her. When I go to the mall, I think I see her in the women who pass by. It’s not getting easier. The grief isn’t passing.

I got up and dressed. I got some fruit for breakfast and pulled a box off the shelf. In it were decades of pictures. In this box was every person, every event important in my life. Here was mom and dad playing cards at the picnic table with the Watersons. Here they were fishing on a lazy day off the boat. Here were my brothers, sisters and me playing. I smiled without realizing it. These are good memories, precious memories. All my birthday parties were spent here, surrounded by all my summer friends. To think I used to hate the drive to the cabin. It seemed to take so long. It was too long to be cooped up with a bunch of kids picking at one another with too much energy and nowhere to spend it.

I was lost in memories when there was a knock on the door. It had to be Mrs. Waterson. She’s the only one who knows I’m here. I didn’t tell anyone else. I opened the door to her bright sunny face, cheeks flushed with the cool morning air.

“Good morning dear!” She said with a light cheery voice. “I brought you some coffee and home baked cookies.” She didn’t bring me some coffee, she brought the entire pot and the cookies were off a cookie dough roll bought at the local grocery. She wasn’t lying. They were home baked. She looked at me, waiting for an invitation to come in. She was too sweet to turn away.

“Of course Mrs. Waterson, why don’t you come in?” I asked. “I was just looking over some pictures. Coffee and cookies would be perfect.”

“Why don’t you call me Elsie, now that you’re all grown? Feels like we’re friends. Mrs. Waterson is too formal.” She said.

“All right, Elsie it is.” I went to the cupboards to get some mugs and sugar. “Do you like cream with your coffee? I’m afraid all I have is the powdered cream, I didn’t bring a lot of groceries with me.”

“No, honey. Just a little sugar is all I need, the real stuff if you have it. Never did like the thought of fake sugar.” She replied. “I know you probably came up here to be alone, and I’ll give you plenty of time to do that, but too much time alone isn’t good for anyone, especially when you are grieving.”

I raised my eyebrow and it did not go unnoticed. I put the mugs on the table and she filled them both. “I know you are grieving the loss of your mom, and truth be told, I’m still grieving the loss of mine and she’s been gone nearly twenty years. You don’t stop missing your mom, no matter how old you are when she passes. I promise you though, it does get easier but it’s real hard until that happens.”

“And how long until that happens?” I inquired. “It’s almost as fresh as the day she died. I feel as if I’ve become the walking dead. I’m not living, I’m existing.”

“It’s different for everyone dear. I don’t know how long it took with me. One day I was able to think of my mom and the memory made me happy instead of sad. Oh, I’m still sad sometimes and I still miss her, but I know we’ll be together again on the other side, whatever that other side may be. You have to let yourself grieve for her as long as it takes. Grief is something you just have to get through. No one can do it for you, and not many people know how to help. It’s the hardest thing to do and you have to do it alone for the most part. Now you, well dear, you got hit with the trifecta. You lost your mom, your husband and your baby. I wouldn’t expect you to bounce right on back from that. You didn’t just lose your mom, you lost the life you expected.” She said.

“I miscarried, it wasn’t like it was a real baby. I never held her. I don’t even know if it was a her. As for Tom, well, he doesn’t deal well if life isn’t perfect. When I didn’t get back up on the proverbial horse, he walked away. I wasn’t even surprised when he did. No one was.” I said.

“Maybe not dear, maybe you didn’t hold your baby, but from the minute you knew you were pregnant you had dreams of what motherhood would be, what your baby would be, and you expected to see your child grow up. Maybe you knew what a weak man Tom was, but you still expected to have children with him and to grow old by his side. That’s what we expect when we are married. We take comfort in knowing how our life will unfold. I was lucky with Sal, we had some tough times, but we made it through. Your parents were lucky, they kept it together through their tough times. Marriage is hard. You don’t understand how hard until you are tested and a lot of people fail the tests life throws our way. When you are building a family, you have the rest of your life planned out. Those plans are gone and now your future is a blank slate. That’s frightening. It’s made worse when you expected Tom to be there for you through the loss of your child and the death of your mother and he wasn’t.” Her words were comforting.

“No, and I feel betrayed. And I’m angry! I’m SO angry! I don’t even know what to do with all the anger swirling around inside of me and everywhere I go I have to be what someone else expects me to be. I want to scream, but if I started screaming, I might never stop.” It just came out. I didn’t even know I was angry until that very moment, but there it was.

“You can scream here. Go on! Scream! There’s no one around to hear, it’s just you and me.” She suggested.

I blushed. “No, that’s just silly.” I replied.

“Ahhhh!” She screamed out long and loud. The scream startled me. “Go on now, scream!” She demanded.

I screamed with her.

“Louder!” She yelled.

I screamed louder.

“No, from your stomach, scream it out. Put some effort into it!” She poked her finger at my stomach and I sucked it in and let it out. “That’s it, you can do it!” My voice was getting hoarse, but it felt good. I screamed until I ran out of air. It felt weird, and silly, and good. It felt good.

“See there?” Asked Elsie. “You screamed and you stopped. How do you feel now?”

“Strangely enough, I do feel a little better.” I said. “Would plotting revenge help? How about a revenge plan?” I was teasing, but a part of me wasn’t.

“You can think about revenge all you want, even entertain the ways you might hurt him, but never take action. It won’t help you heal. That’s what you need. It takes time.” She replied.

“But I’m all alone now!” I cried out with a fresh torrent of tears. Elsie got up to get me a tissue. She didn’t say a word, she just stood beside me, rubbing my back until I composed myself.

“The last thing you are is alone.” She said once I had dried my tears. “You feel alone because the one person you counted on to be with you through the miscarriage and divorce isn’t here to comfort you, but you are not alone. Your siblings lost their mom too. I lost your mom. You can share your grief with us.”

“You don’t understand, I had a dream about her last night and it seemed to real. It was so real I woke up crying.” I explained.

“Tell me about it.” She said.

I told her about the dream, how I was reaching to my mom who was always just past my reach.

“The meaning of that dream is clear. Your mother’s spirit is close to you, and always will be but if you want to reach her you only have to look in your heart. You carry your love for her there, and as long as you love her, she will always be nearby.” She said. “And even though you can’t see it, the lifetime of love she had for you, that she felt for you surrounds you still. Only her body has died, not the love you shared.”

I was surprised by just how much sense that made. Why couldn’t I see that before?

“Well, honey, I’ve got some things to do before Colton brings our feast. I’m always here if you need me and you’re the closest thing to a daughter I will ever have. I can’t replace your mom, no one can, but if you need me I’m here for you. I’ll see you at four o’clock then.” She said as she rose to leave.

“Yes, I’ll come over then, and thank you. I do feel a little better.” I said.

“No need to thank me, it’s what friends do. I’ve known you all your life and just because your mom is no longer with us doesn’t mean the friendship ends. Besides, I told Colton you were up here and he can’t wait to see you. It’s been a long time since you two last saw one another.” She said.

Mrs. Waterson, Elsie, walked out my door and it was true, I did feel better. I even felt like being productive. I cranked on my playlist and began to clean the cabin. Months of spiders and dust needed to be swept away, and it felt cathartic to clean. The next time I looked at the clock it was three in the afternoon. The day went by in a heartbeat. I needed to get a bath and cleaned up. I hadn’t seen Colton in years, and I didn’t want to look like something to cat dragged in. I drew the bath and tossed in the dried lilacs my mom had hung. The hot water drew out the scent and it was almost like mom was here. The smell of lilac wafted into the rising steam.

When I was a child, I had a crush on Colton. He was three years older and was the cool kid all the other kids wanted to be. He attracted people to him. He was always surrounded by boys and girls alike but he didn’t seem to know he was the king of the cabin kids. He was easy to be with, making everyone around him laugh. He read The Hardy Boys and I read Nancy Drew. We would argue who solved mysteries better, girls or boys. We never did agree which one that was, but it was fun to compare the mysteries we read. It took two boys to solve mysteries that one girl solved. Nancy Drew was the clear winner.

I dried my hair and put on some light makeup. I had to admit I was a bit nervous to see him again. I’d heard he had become a doctor, on staff at a hospital a couple of hours away from the cabins. He was engaged at one point but the marriage never materialized. I wondered what happened. I also wondered if the adult version of Colton was as handsome as I remember the younger version was. All the girls dreamed on marrying him one day, and we all practiced writing Mrs. Colton Waterson in our notebooks. He never seemed interested in girls as anything but friends. Many girls tried to make him their boyfriend, and every single one of them failed. The closer it got to four o’clock, the more nervous I became. I went to the freezer for a shot of liquid courage. It was time to go see my childhood friend.

I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous. Who was Colton Waterson now? Would he still have the boyish charm that captured the hearts of every girl by the lake? Would he have that easy sense of humor that made you smile without realizing you felt better? Would he have become hardened by all the tragedy life throws in your face? My heartbeat quickened and I felt my face blush. Even after all these years, I still felt my girlish crush. Before I could knock on the door, it swung wide open and Mrs. Waterson~Elsie~scooped me up in her arms with an enthusiastic hug.

“Right on time my dear! Come in, come in! Colton is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on our feast. Here, let me take your coat. There’s a nice fire going, just right to take the chill out of the air.” She practically undressed me. I looked around the room. It hasn’t changed since my earliest childhood memories, save for the addition of photographs. I could see the age progression of Colton from birth to adulthood on the walls. He turned into a handsome man. Elsie changed the furniture around a little, but the house was frozen in time. It felt like home now just as it felt like a second home then. Mrs. Waterson felt like the second mom I’d always had. I’d forgotten how close we were. That’s what distance does, it separates you from people who matter. Your life gets busy and you forget what lies in the past, or rather who lies in the past.

The dining table was set with fall tableware and the centerpiece was a vase filed with huge sunflowers and baby’s breath. I am remembering now. Sunflowers were Mr. Waterson’s favorite flower. My mom and Elsie used to playfully argue which flower was best. My mom was argue that lilacs were the trumpets of spring, bursting out in glorious color and fragrance from winter’s long silence. Elsie would say that sunflowers were the salt of the earth, beautiful and life affirming because you could eat the seeds. This flower provided nourishment and could fend off starvation in the long winter months following. Mother would fire back lilacs provided something better than seeds, lilacs were the sign of hope and promise just when winter was ending. It was the signal of better days ahead. They made for good friends, these two. Mom saw the promise of life while Elsie saw the practical needs of life. Mom was the yin to her yang. How could Elsie find balance without my mom? How could she not be lonely now that Sal and mom were gone?

“Colton, our guest is here!” Elsie yelled. “Come out and greet her.” Colton stepped out from the kitchen. He was all grown up. He came over and embraced me in his muscular arms. He towered over me at 6’4” or so. His dark hair fell into his boyish face. He didn’t look his age. It felt good to be in his arms, like the world couldn’t touch me here. I clung to him, not wanting this moment to end.

“Let me take a look at you! I can’t tell you how happy I felt when mom said you were up here. It’s been too long since we’ve seen one another.” He said. “You aren’t that scrawny little girl anymore. Do you still like mysteries?” He asked.

I can’t believe he remembered. “Not so much anymore.” I replied. “I like to know how the story ends. I like happy endings.”

“Me too,” he agreed. That’s why I became a doctor, so I could help make those happy endings.”

“I heard you are a doctor, congratulations! But don’t you see an awful lot of suffering? Surely you see people who die. How is that a happy ending?” I wanted to know how he could stay so optimistic in the face of death.

“Happy endings aren’t always of the Disney variety. Sometimes a happy ending is getting to say goodbye to someone you love. Sometimes a happy ending is recovering after a tragedy. Sometimes a happy ending is the ending. There are all kinds of happy endings but yes, I do see heartache, pain and misery. I do my best to alleviate it when I can. I was so sorry to hear of your mom passing. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral, I was on call that night.” He said.

“I can’t believe she’s gone. It’s why I came up to the cabin why my family is celebrating Thanksgiving at Jake’s house. I couldn’t bear to see that empty chair at the table, her chair.” I hoped I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt.

“That’s understandable. I’m glad you are here. We can catch up a bit. Dinner is ready. There’s a chilled bottle of chardonnay on the table, help yourself while I bring out the food.” He went into the kitchen and came out with his arms laden with piping hot food. It looked delicious. I suddenly had an appetite. My stomach growled fiercely. I hadn’t eaten much in the last week.

Elsie sat down at the head of the table and I took my seat at the side. Colton sat down opposite of me. “I remember the first holiday without dad.” Colton said. “It wasn’t the same. I guess none of the holidays are the same but mom and I get together and celebrate as if they were. We’re all we have now. How’s the rest of your family? Mom gives me updates, so I know Jake is an electrician and he married his high school sweetheart. He has two kids, right?”

“Yes, he and Margie have a boy and a girl, with another boy on the way. Margie is due around Christmas. They just bought a house in Scofield. Margie is quitting her job at the law firm to be a full time mom. I can’t imagine her as the soccer mom type, but she says that’s what she wants. Patty is a flight attendant, but she is at Jake’s for the holiday. She has a boyfriend, but isn’t interested in getting married yet. James is getting his PhD in anthropology. He says you can’t get anywhere in the field without it but he is in Israel doing some type of internship. He couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving. With mom gone, Jake and Margie have taken over as the heart of the family. They are the only ones of us that have a home.” I said. “The turkey is really good, so moist. Did you cook it yourself?” I asked him.

“Oh, no! I would burn a boiled egg. The past few years I’ve ordered Thanksgiving from a local caterer and brought it up here to mom. She makes me nervous living up here by herself but we spend the holidays together and I get up here when I can. I just reheat it. They really do a nice job, don’t they?” He asked. “And what about you? Are you still at the lab?”

“Yeah. We just accepted a new research study in neuropharmaceuticals. We are studying a new drug for dementia. I hope it works because if it does it will provide the first real breakthrough for Alzheimer’s. It’s exciting to be a part of it.” I said.

“What a coincidence!” Elsie exclaimed. “Colton just got his credentials in gerontology. He and some other docs are opening up a practice specializing in aging. He says there are too many biochemical changes in human physiology to treat us older folks the same as younger adults. We need docs who understand those changes. I’m so proud of him.” She leaned over and tossed his hair with her hand.

“Mom!” Colton said sheepishly. “Not the hair!” He tried to admonish his mom, but he took on a slight blush. He poured us all another round of wine. It was a good chardonnay, probably high end. It went down like melted butter.

“So what about you? What’s been keeping you busy besides being a doctor?” I asked.

“I don’t have a great deal of time on my hands to do much of anything else. I don’t read mysteries anymore unless medical mysteries count. Professional journals are all I have time to read. My vacations I spend with mom. We went to Greece last year and saw the Parthenon. Before that we went white water rafting in the Poconos. One year I took mom parasailing in the Bahamas and another we went zip lining in the Amazon rain forest.” He said.

I looked at him in disbelief. I couldn’t imagine this slip of a woman doing all those things. “Don’t give me that look. Mom plans the vacations and I just go along with her.” He laughed.

“It’s true” Elsie laughed. “I plan them all. If I left it up to him, he would have me on some senior cruise ship listening to The Backstreet Boys on tour. I’m not old enough for cruise ships just yet. Did your mom ever tell you about the first time we went camping?”

“I don’t think so.” I said.

“Oh my! She was something. She didn’t know squat about camping. Our junior high history teacher, Mr Price, had an outdoor adventure club and the highlight of the club was a canoeing trip at the end of the school year. We were both so excited. She asked Mr. Price if there was running water at the camp site. Mr. Price told her there was but he had a sense of humor and meant the running water was the Ohio River. She was dead serious, trying to plan for what we would need. Your mom took everything so literal back then. On the day we were to leave, she brought a tent and her supplies for the weekend to school. We got to the campground just before nightfall that Friday and set about making our campsite when it became apparent she had forgotten the tent at school. That was the first problem. Poor Mr. Price had to drive his camper into town to get a makeshift tent. He bought some plastic he hung over some rope he tied between a couple of trees and that was our tent. Your mom asked him where the fountain was. She brought powdered koolaid for us to drink. That was problem two. The running water that made the Ohio River was far too brackish to drink. Mr. and Mrs. Price gave us some sodas. She paused to take a couple of bites of her dinner.

Elsie was laughing as she remembered. I could imagine mom as a teenager, woefully ill equipped to be a camper. Mom always said her idea of roughing it was a hotel room without a coffee maker.

“I think I’ve heard this story before.” Colton said. “Don’t worry mom, I won’t give away the ending. There was a twinkle in his eye. Elsie hadn’t gotten to the best part of the story yet.

“We had arrived at the campsite around suppertime. Someone got a big fire going and most everyone brought hot dogs they stuck on a stick and held them over the fire. Not your mom, she brought ground beef to make hamburgers. She had this contraption like a sandwich cage to hold them over the fire. They were pretty good hamburgers, but I thought she was going to burn herself when the grease caught fire. We have very well done burgers but we didn’t care. We spent the night playing with our classmates, and at the end of the night we all sat around the campfire while people took turns telling scary stories. At one point your mom disappeared and didn’t come back for a long time. I thought she had gone to sleep. Some people brought chocolate and marshmallows to make smores and I was getting hungry. When I went back to our tent for a snack, I found out what she had been doing. Bringing snacks was my job. Your mom got into the Bugles and ate then entire box! She didn’t even leave me the crumbs. I was so mad at your mom I was steaming, but you can’t stay mad at your mom. No matter what she did, you just couldn’t stay mad. We went to sleep soon after that. Your mom fell asleep right off but I was hungry and I didn’t have any Bugles to eat.”

“We awakened the next morning by a bustle of activity. The bonfire was going and everyone was getting some breakfast. That was when I found out your mother brought eggs for our breakfast. Eggs! To cook over a campfire!” Elsie broke out into laughter and I caught myself laughing with her.

“So your mom decides she is going to use the cast iron skillet she brought to fry up some eggs but I decided to boil my eggs in another pan your mother brought. I should have been the captain of the camping trip because your mother didn’t have the first clue. I filled my pan with water from the river, the only running water around, and set it on some coals. I was half mad from starvation. I didn’t have a good supper, your mom had eaten all our snacks, and I couldn’t see how she was going to fry up eggs on an open fire. Several other kids were around the fire when Craig Tompkins blew his nose and threw the tissue into the fire. At the exact moment he threw the tissue, a little breeze picked up the tissue and it blew right into your mom’s eggs!” We all laughed.

“Your mom was horrified! She looked at Craig, who genuinely looked sorry, but she didn’t say anything. Her face said it all. Poor thing turned over the skillet. She wasn’t getting any breakfast. I almost felt sorry for her, but I was still miffed she ate all the Bugles. I did offer her one of my boiled eggs, but she didn’t want one. I know you mom, she had her heart set on fried eggs and that’s what she wanted. She kept me company at the fire. When my eggs were done, I cracked them open. They were gray, almost black! They looked awful. The river water looked clean enough, but my eggs were ruined. Neither one of us were going to get any breakfast today. We were going to go hungry, but we were far too excited to go canoeing to let it bother us. We helped pack up the campsite. Some of the parents were going to drive all our belongings and cars to the next camping site while we canoed down the river.”

“There was an informal race to see who could get to the camp site first. There was a set of parents in the lead, another set of parents in the middle, and Mr and Mrs. Price held up the back end. Neither your mom or I had ever been canoeing before, it was all new to us. We were never going to master the great outdoors. We couldn’t keep the canoe going straight, instead hitting one bank and the other. Mr. and Mrs. Price actually had to pull off to the side of the banks from time to time to avoid getting ahead of us. You know how competitive your mom is,” Elsie said as she nodded in my direction. “She was at her wits end knowing we were in last place. We couldn’t even keep the canoe upright. We kept tipping it and had to chase the canoe down the river to catch it. I swear we spent more time in the water than in the canoe!” Elsie was back in time, remembering the list of calamities that bonded two teenage girls to a lifetime of friendship.

“We finally made it to the campsite. We ate whatever was left, which wasn’t all that much. Mostly we went around and mooched off of other people. We all sat around the campfire telling scary stories, but everyone was exhausted so story time let up earlier than the night before. Your mom didn’t make it past the first story. She was sound asleep when I made it to our see through tent. Your mom looked like such an angel when she slept. You would never know what a mischievous little imp she was when she was awake. I went to sleep beside her and before we knew it morning had come again.”

“We didn’t have anything for breakfast, all our eggs were broken so Mr. and Mrs. Price took us to their camper for some cereal. We wolfed down three bowls each! Mrs. Price laughed, but we were starving. We hadn’t had a decent meal since lunch Friday at school. Mr. Price tried to give us some tips on rowing our canoe, hoping to avoid the long journey we had the day before. There was another informal race to reach the end of the line. Your mom was determined to give winning another try. We got on our swimsuits and shorts and shoved off in our boat.”

How had I never heard this story before? It sounded just like mom, who couldn’t be a camper if she tried. There are two kinds of people in this world, ones who can camp, and one who will always be city people, never far away from the convenience of city life. My mother was a city girl. She loved the cabin and being by the lake, but give her a Sunday at the mall and she was in her element. I couldn’t believe this was my mother going canoeing though. She hated water! That was something I didn't’ find out until I was nearly grown. My summers were filled with endless days and nights at the cabin and swimming in the lake. Mom took us swimming and made sure we had swimming lessons. Mom wasn’t a strong swimmer and wanted to make sure we could hold our own. There wasn’t a lifeguard on duty at the lake. Everyone was responsible for their own children. It seemed every few years, you would hear of a child drowning. We were well into our teens before mom would let us go swimming by ourselves. Even then, we had to have a swimming buddy. As we got older, mom quit swimming. She would sit at the edge of the water, but she didn’t go into the water any further than that. She never told me why she seemed to be afraid of the water, but she made sure all us kids enjoyed swimming, even if that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Elsie continued with her story. “We did much better the second day, we had more control over the canoe and could go long stretches in a straight line. Some of the twists and turns of the river gave us a bit of trouble, but we weren’t in last place. We even passed some other people. We were singing some songs, rowing in rhythm. There was a popular song a the time called “Rock the Boat.” We sang that, only your mom starting swaying side to side with the song. Rock the boat, don’t tip the boat over, rock the boat she sang and the boat swayed side to side. I started yelling at your mom to cut it out, I didn’t want to tip the boat and I certainly didn’t want to get wet but your mom was in the mood of the song and ignored my pleas to stop rocking the boat. Suddenly she rocked a little too hard and I went flying out of the canoe!” We all began laughing. Elsie was laughing so hard tears were coming out of her eyes. The harder she laughed, the more Colton and I laughed.

“Yes, your mom rocked the boat so hard I flew out of it, but not so hard it tipped over. I popped my head up out of the water to see your mother flowing several feet ahead of me. She was down to one oar and couldn’t control the boat by herself. It finally ran into the bank. She pulled it up onto land and swam upstream to help me capture my oar. By the time we got back to our canoe and on water again, we saw Mr. Price’s canoe flow passed us. We were in last place again. I was so mad at your mom I didn’t speak to her until we landed at the end of our trip. By then, the warmth of the summer sun had dried out my clothing and I was too tired to be mad.” Elsie told the story with such fondness, I couldn’t believe she had ever been upset with my mom.

I had been so engrossed in the story that I didn’t realize I had eaten everything on my plate. I didn’t have much of an appetite these days, so it surprised me that not only had I eaten an entire meal, but I wanted seconds. “Colton, could you pass me the stuffing please? Everything is so good!”

“Save some room for pie, “ he said. “They make an incredible cheesecake pumpkin pie, and their apple pie is pretty good too.”

For the rest of the meal, we each shared memories of my mother. I’d forgotten what a rich history she had lived. As we shared our stories, we laughed, we cried, we loved and we took some time to miss her. My mother was a larger than life personality. What we didn’t do was grieve. We celebrated the life my mother had, and we were so lucky to have had her for all the years we did. I don’t know how much wine I drank, but my head was swimming. We had been sitting at the table eating and sharing stories for almost four hours. Time had flown by.

Elsie got up to begin clearing the table, and Colton and I followed her lead. The conversation strayed away from my mother and I learned what Colton had been doing with his life. He spends a couple of weeks each year with Doctors without Borders donating his time and skills to areas in desperate need of medical care. He had a relationship with a woman named Ann and he had planned to marry her until she became pregnant by another doctor on staff. He didn’t have much time for dating and had tried the dating web sites without much luck. A golden retriever kept him company until this past summer when Buddy walked over rainbow bridge. He was working earnestly on setting up his new practice. We cleared the table and washed the dishes with a natural ease, as if we had been doing this all our lives.

“Well, I had better get going, I’ve had too much wine and too much food. Thank you Elsie and Colton, for such a lovely evening, and for all the stories of my mother. I certainly didn’t expect to feel so good when we were reminiscing. I didn’t expect to laugh, either. Really, thank you. This night meant more than you could know.” I said.

“You’re more than welcome my dear. If you want to come up for Thanksgiving next year, we could make this a new tradition.” Elsie replied.

“I don’t have to head back to the hospital until late tomorrow evening, how about coming over around lunch?” Colton asked. “We’ll have some leftovers and maybe we could take a hike? I’d love to spend some time with you before I go. It’s been too long.”

“Sure!” I said with butterflies in my bloated tummy. “I would love that.” I put on my coat.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin. It’s pretty dark out there and you never know who might still be around.” Colton said as he grabbed his coat.

“Really, I’m fine” I said. My heart skipped a beat and I felt a little flushed. What was I doing acting like a lovesick child?

Colton opened the door and the cool night air rushed upon our faces. It was exhilarating. My door was just a few feet away but I wished I lived on the other side of the lake. I didn’t want the evening to end. We reached my door and Colton lingered on the porch. Without saying a word, he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “I had a wonderful time this evening.” He said. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

“Happy Thanksgiving!” I replied. I turned the key in the lock, opening the door. I almost fell into Colton’s arms, hugging him like my life depended upon it. It felt so good to be in the arms of a man again. I wanted to stay there but I slowly pulled out of his warm embrace. “See you tomorrow then?” I asked.

“Count on it!” he replied. I’m looking forward to spending more time with you. He turned and bounced down the stairs, as if he always walked on air.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a minute. It might be the wine, but my heart was fluttering. I could still feel how soft his lips felt on my face. I drew my hand up to feel the spot on my cheek he had kissed. The remnants of my school girl crush came rushing back as if my teenage self was just yesterday instead of over a decade ago. I took off my coat and danced a little to music only my feet could hear. I felt light and hopeful, something I had not felt for many months. I spent the rest of the evening in a trance like state, looking over the pictures of my childhood. I didn’t feel sad or alone the entire night. I went to bed and slept a dreamless night. I awakened in the morning wanting to see what the day would bring. I had expected a weekend of sorrow. Instead, I was having some fun. I almost felt a bit guilty for having fun when I should be grieving the loss of my mother.

The sun seemed brighter today, and I greeted the day with promise. I was looking forward to spending some time with my childhood friend and wondered why we had let time separate us. Time does that to so many people. Like Elsie said, people tend to come and go throughout our life. Often, they leave our life quietly and without ceremony. I put some logs in the hearth, there was a crisp chill in the air. It felt good to clean yesterday, so I set about cleaning out mom’s bedroom. My siblings had gone through the main house and I felt some guilt about not helping them. In fact, I felt angry with them at the time. They were right to clean her house and get it ready for sale, but to me it felt like a betrayal. We had been raised in that house. There was a lifetime of memories there and they were going to let a stranger erase them all. Every mark on the wall commemorating our growth, gone. Every nuance needing repair was repaired. The door to my old bedroom no longer groaned, the floorboard in the living room that creaked no longer creaked. The boiler system was dismantled and replaced with a cost efficient furnace. The kitchen was updated and modernized. It didn’t look like our home once my siblings got through with it. Freshly painted, it was eventually sold to a couple with two children and one on the way. Soon, they would be making their own memories in our old home.

I decided to start with her closet. I pulled out shirts and sweaters, and I saw mom in every one. Images flashed through my memory and I could place her wearing each article of clothing. I remember crying on this blouse the night I was stood up for prom. Jake ended up taking me that night. She wore this blouse the night my father died. With each piece of clothing came a memory. I gingerly folded up each one and put them in a plastic bag. They were going to be donated to the local women’s shelter. I had just finished the closet when there was a knock on the door. I looked at my watch and realized the entire morning had flown by. It was nearly noon! I wasn’t ready. I was barely dressed, I hadn’t brushed my hair or teeth.

I opened the door to find Colton standing on the porch with a picnic basket. “Good morning!” He said with a wide grin. “I thought it would be nice to have a picnic at our old spot up on the hill. What do you say?”

“A picnic? Isn’t it a bit chilly for a picnic?” I asked. It was warm for November, but it was November.

“I’ve got it covered.” He replied. “I have a thermos full of cream of turkey soup and another full of spiked hot chocolate. We have turkey sandwiches and some cheese. I have a tablecloth and a blanket if you get too chilly.” In addition to his picnic basket, I saw he was wearing a backpack. He did come prepared. How could I say no?

“OK, but I”m not quite ready. I was going through some of mom’s things and lost track of time. Give me five? Come in and have a seat, I’ll be ready in a jiff.” I said. There was no time for make-up. Running a brush through my hair and brushing my teeth would have to do.

“Tell you what, take ten. Mom taught me the best women were the ones worth waiting for.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.

I smiled back and rushed into the bathroom. I layered my clothing, putting on a cami, a t-shirt and then a sweater. I found my hiking boots, a scarf and a warm wool hat. I was as ready as I was going to get.

“Let’s go!” I felt an excitement stirring inside of me I haven’t felt in a very long time. This weekend was turning out to be so different than the one I expected. I thought I would be alone and crying the entire time. I didn’t shed a single tear when I was putting mom’s clothing into the donation bag. I was giving mom’s clothing away, but keeping the memories. I had plenty of mementos and pictures to keep her memory fresh and alive.

“Let’s go!” He said.

I stepped out into a day warmer than I expected. There was still a slight chill in the air, but the chill disappeared as we walked. It was as if no time had passed between us. We talked with the same ease we had as children. We shared our memories, and laughed at the adventures we had together. I had forgotten most of them, but as we talked the past reared back to life as if it had been waiting in the shadows to come out into the light once more. The past year, the heartache and sorrow faded into the background and I found myself truly enjoying the moment. His eyes sparkled in the sun, his smile was infectious. I couldn’t help but have a good time with him. We reached the summit of the hill and he reached around for his backpack. I felt energized and alive.

He spread the tablecloth on the ground, sitting on top of it. He motioned for me to sit next to him as he prepared our picnic. I shivered a bit when I sat next to him. He thought I was cold and pulled the blanket out, laying it across our legs. He poured us each a drink, and the hot chocolate was delicious. He continued to lay out our lunch, and I suddenly found I was starving. I remembered that I hadn’t eaten any breakfast. I ate my soup and sandwich with great enthusiasm. He laughed at me. “Well, I guess you have a healthy appetite!” He said with a smile in his voice.

“I forgot to eat breakfast.” I replied. “I honestly didn’t expect to have much of an appetite this weekend, but this weekend has been full of unexpected things.”

“You know, when mom told me you were here, I have to admit it was an unexpected surprise. I’ve thought about you now and then over the years, and of course mom keeps me in tune with the latest gossip. I’m happy we can spend some time together. It’s been too long. I’ve missed you.” He said, his voice becoming quieter.

“I’ve missed you too.” I admitted. “We were so close when we were kids, and then life took us in different directions.”

“I regret not keeping in touch with you. I got caught up in medical school and then life in general. I always meant to call you but then as time went on it seemed awkward. Then you got married and it didn’t seem appropriate.” He said.

“Yeah, we should have kept in touch. We shouldn’t let that happen again.” I replied.

“No, we won’t let that happen again.” He said as he stared deeply into my eyes. I could get lost in those cerulean blues. Neither of us spoke, each of us lost in our own thoughts. He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. I swear my heart was going to beat right out of my chest. It was so loud I was certain he could hear it. I looked away nervously.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I’ve actually wanted to do that since I saw you yesterday. This is me showing restraint.” His voice cracked a little. He was as nervous as I was.

“No, I uhm,” I didn’t know what else to say, so I kissed him back. Our lips touched one another and the electricity was undeniable. I wanted to strip off his clothes then and there, but there was a sweetness, a tenderness in letting our lips linger upon one another.

Our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek. I felt dizzy. I leaned into him to steady myself. He ran his fingers through my hair. Neither one of us spoke for what seemed like an eternity. He sat up straight and took my face in his hands. “I don’t want to pressure you, or to rush you, but the truth is I’ve always loved you. I thought it was just a crush when we were younger, but seeing you again brought back all those feelings and they are as strong now as they were then. I let you go once before, I don’t want to lose touch with you again.” He said. His voice quivered when he spoke, unsure if I felt the same way. “I know it’s been a rough year for you, so if you need time, I can understand that, but let’s not lose touch again.”

A tear, and then another one escaped down my cheek. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I looked down. I couldn’t bear to let him see my face. I stammered “I had a crush on you all throughout my teen years too.” I looked up to see him smiling. He brushed the hair out of my face. He kissed me again, just as tenderly as the first time but with the passion he had been holding back. I was tingling from head to toe as I kissed him back. I no longer felt a chill in the air. There was no past and no future. There was only right now, this moment. There was no place I would rather be. He ran his hand from my face to the back of my neck and kissed me again, pulling me in towards him. I would have melted into him if I could. His kiss was filled with an innocence, with a patience I’ve never felt before. It was as if I was being kissed for the very first time. He ended the kiss by nibbling my upper lip, ever so gently. As he pulled away, I almost felt lost, as if part of me was pulling away with him.

“We’d better head back, it’s going to get real chilly real fast and we are out of hot chocolate and soup.” He said. We packed up our picnic without a word, each of us lost in our own thoughts. We walked back to the cabin hand in hand, neither one of us speaking. We didn’t need words when we were kids, and we didn’t need them now. Dare I say I felt happy? Hopeful even? Like all of the tragedy of the last year had melted into the past and all there was was a future, a future full of love, hope and promise? A future that no longer held the emptiness I’ve felt since my life fell apart? Mom always said a door never closes without another one opening, could this be that open door?

We arrived back at my cabin and he paused at the door. “I’ve got to head back to the hospital tonight, they are short staffed and the holidays are always busy. Can I call you?” He asked.

“Of course, of course, I’d like that.” I said shyly. I was like a schoolgirl in love for the first time instead of a woman who had been married and divorced. I smiled into his eyes and he kissed me once more, this time moving his kisses over my cheek.

“Awesome!” He said excitedly. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can make some plans to get together soon.” He leaned in to give me another kiss before he practically leapt off the porch, taking the steps two at a time. I watch him until he got to Elsie’s cabin. He turned and waved to me before he ducked inside the door. I went inside my own cabin, my heart light. All the confusion and pain I had been feeling melted away. I no longer felt alone.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening going through mom’s things. With each of her things I touched, a memory came to mind. Some of the memories were happy, some sad. Some of the memories were funny, others reminded me of times I was in trouble. I packed things into boxes, things I wanted to keep and other boxes for my siblings to go through in case they wanted anything. The last boxes were packed to be donated. Mom’s bedroom was in a state of organized disarray by the time I had finished. With each box packed, a little bit of sorrow was packed away with it. I healed a bit as I packed up mom’s life. My memories provided me with a life in review. Mom had a good life. She didn’t suffer when she died. Elsie was right, mom had left me with everything I needed to go on without her. I wished I didn’t have to go on without her, but that’s how life is. People aren’t meant to stay with you forever. They come into your life with gifts, lessons you need to learn, experiences you need to have to be a better person that you were before. I am a better person because mom was in my life. One day, I will be a better mother because of all she taught me. I will fill my daughter’s life with stories of this amazing woman. I will show her pictures so she can know mom as I did and though they cannot meet, my daughter will come to love her as I love her. I put the boxes in the car so I could head back to town first thing in the morning.

I walked back into the cabin after loading the last box and looked around. I breathed in the smell of lilacs, still strong even after I cleaned. Mom didn’t leave me. She would forever be in every lilac I would ever smell for the rest of my life. When her memory fades, as memories do, I will look at her pictures. When I want to talk to her, all I have to do is search my memories through the many conversations we had. Her truths are there, I simply need to remember and I will know what my mom would say to me. I grabbed a sandwich and my vodka. This weekend had been full of surprises. I thought I had lost my mother, but she was here all along. I thought my life empty, but I just needed to be reminded of the past to see how full my life could be. Elsie is here and she has always meant so much to me. I’ve always loved Colton, but now I will love him as an adult. My life with Tom wasn’t the life I deserved. I deserved so much better. I deserve to be happy and I would never have been truly happy with him. The door with Tom was closed, and the door with Colton had opened.

I finished my cleaning and went to bed. I slept hard and in my dreams my mother appeared to me again, looking like an angel. She reached out her arms to me and I reached out to her. This time, I was able to embrace my mother and I felt her love surge through me, filling up every place there was pain. Her love was all consuming, so there wasn’t room for sorrow. When I awoke, I awakened feeling peaceful. The sun was shining in through the dirty windows, and I could see the country dust dancing on the beams. I stretched out the night, preparing my body for the coming day. I felt the afterglow from my dream and gave myself a little hug. This time when I thought of my mother, I didn’t think of loss. I thought of the life we shared and I swear I felt my heart smile. I made it through the first Thanksgiving without her. It was time for new traditions, traditions which honored the past but celebrated the present. I made a vow to spend next Thanksgiving here with Elsie. I don’t know what Christmas will look like without my mother, but I’m ready for it.

I got dressed and said a tearful goodbye to Elsie. When my mother died, I thought my life was over. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t be the same, but as I drove back to my life I knew what Elsie said was true. My mother had left me with a lifetime of love.