Monday, December 27, 2010
Of Sparkles and Mothers
We have been through a series of firsts this year. The year my father died. The year my mother has lived alone for the first time in her life. She comes from a time when a daughter went from her father's house to her husband's. The daughter of Irish immigrants who identified herself as his wife. Struggling to understand a life alone.
So I made a Christmas for her. I strung lights in the house, sparkles on the house plants, ornaments glistening in bowls. I set a formal table, something I learned because of her insistence on finishing school for me. Doesn't that sound quaint and archaic. I thought so as I had to attend because she insisted. I made manicotti, something my mother would climb mountains for.
And it was good. It was peaceful and happy and bright. The fire snapped, the lights glowed and my mother drank champagne, ate cake and was smiling. She is not accustomed to smiling. I did right.
For now, there is the hoar frost. Nature did right as well.