Thursday, March 05, 2020
This is the date of my mom’s birthday. She passed away many years ago, and her birthdays since make it difficult to consider that by now she’d be “way beyond old”. My memory bank should long ago have eased the significance of this date. Nope, my sweet mom left me trusting that every March 5 is as real and significant as any major holiday.
One of my favorite early memories occurred on one of her birthdays. I must have been six or seven years old and asked mom for money. I wanted to go out and buy her a gift. In my early Oklahoma years, and in our town’s neighborhoods, a little kid could walk alone safely. Also, back then existed independently-owned “neighborhood stores”. Up at the corner, a drugstore would be my intended destination.
My little sister tended follow me everywhere and was three or four years old. Together, we walked to the drug store. Mom had given us five dollars for gifts from us both. At the store (still in my child’s eye a huge place, but really just little, a corner convenience shop) we walked slowly up and down every aisle. My sister and I, holding hands, paused before each display to stare and wonder what mom might like best. Interesting now to recall that we managed to stay focused on what mom might prefer. That shopping was for her.
In the end, we agreed on a gift that would be from us both–a big jar of Woodbury Face Cream–a safe bet as Mom always used that cream. I remember that we came home in a hurry and proud of ourselves, eager to gift mom on Her Day. And best of all, she couldn’t have been more gracious.
Dear Friends: That memory still feels as real to me as if it had happened yesterday. Diana