Mom made 85 this week. She's as beautiful as a movie star - many people compare her looks to Olympia Dukakis. We gave her a few surprises - a limo ride and a surprise party with her brothers and sister. Grandkids and great grands, and toasted her health and her life.
I haven't blogged in a while, and a new friend found my old posts and commented on them. Which led me to reading what I'd written so long ago.
Lately, I've been thinking in terms of 'bucket lists' - a term I really dislike but haven't found my own way to label those things that I still have on my to-do list. Mom recently said the only thing she could think of to put on one of those lists would be a riding tour of the places in New Orleans that hold memories of her youth. Dances with my Dad, and her brothers, and places she used to work or live.
I don't really expect to have as many years left as my Mom has proven she can reach. Wonder if my to-dos will be done, but I expect I'll have added more. My play is going onstage next month. I have a cruise with Clint to faraway places with strange sounding names. A gallery showing in the late summer. And white space in between - how I prize my white spaces on the calendar.
I'm thinking often these days of legacy...my Mom's long held memories, our family, and mostly Milton's video memories. I know we hold in our DNA some sort of collective human experiences...knowing my Dad was adopted has often help me feel connected. Even when I disconnect completely - Cowboy Mouth singing "How do I look in the mirror and never see my face" should be playing here.
Those video memories - how the pull me up short. Actually hearing the voices and seeing the movements of loved ones now gone. Pushing past the longing to see them, into the connectedness...and I know I need the white spaces, and the living memories, to get there.
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