Tuesday, April 03, 2007

On becoming my mother after all

Whenever my mother went away from her children when we were growing up--by away, I mean far away, usually involving aircraft and a five day supply of panties--she always left us letters in her lingerie drawer.

These were special letters. One for each of the six of us, in a sealed envelope, only meant to be opened by us in case she died while on the trip. Last goodbyes, as they were. They were very long, and very emotionally sentimental.

I remember as a child, teenager, young adult, thinking that they were the most ridiculously morbid thing ever. In that way that everything your elderly parent does is ridiculously something...ridiculously embarrassing, ridiculously morbid, ridiculously ridiculous...

And then I became a mother.
One for each of my three precious boys, all sealed up, spritzed with my signature perfume, each holding a small trinket and a photo of me with them...tied up with a blue ribbon,
and ready for my lingerie drawer.



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