Cosmic Countdown

A Day in a Word Polaroid

As I zoomed down the road putting space between my car and the family home base, I realized that I had not taken a picture of the front door as I had planned.

So much for my Polaroid of that day. I realized that I am not very good at this, or I am loosing my mind. Probably a little bit of both. So I will have to paint a picture in words, that which the camera would not, could not capture,  as I left a little bit of myself behind.

Actually not a little bit, a huge part of me. 

My Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, a worn down version of my fantastic go getter Mother. She had her walker at the ready, dressed up this day as she was to have visitors in a short time. She will stay propped up in her "electric chair" watching the news, the rosary at 1030 (maybe 930), going thru and writing  her correspondence as she is old school and unwilling to conquer the newfangled invention of the computer. She is a avid Thoroughbred enthusiast and stays in contact with all her racing and breeding buddies from her Blood Horse and Keeneland days. She has her telephone at her elbow, which rings all day with her friends keeping an "eye" on her and her needs.   She keeps a journal of her days. Perhaps she will write a letter to the editor of the local paper, the regional paper or if she is in a mind set,Time magazine. She did have a letter published during the 1970's when she took some Big Wig Economist to task over his belittling of stay at home Mom's. She contradicted him, with solid back up evidence, that at home Mothering is THE MOST IMPORTANT JOB OF ALL! (ahead of her time! A semi-feminist who disagreed with anything that contradicted The Church) Sorting  thru her stamps in anticipation of her monthly stamp club meeting with the elementary kids at St. Leo's. She has been turning kids on to stamp collecting  for close to 40 years now. She will not hesitate to name drop some of her Star Stamp Collectors who have gone on to become the pillars of society not only in the small part of the world she adopted as home (being a bona fide New Yorker) but those who have spread their wings into the larger stage of the outside world. 

She is who I left behind, content and happy with her life as it has settled into a soft routine since my Dad passed away.

As I back out of the drive way I look to the front door and see the spirit of my Dad, his ghost, the image of him forever imprinted on my heart, standing at the screen watching me leave. Waving a small good-bye, settling his hands clasped behind his back, as was his familiar stance. I always waved and threw kisses to him.

This is my Polaroid of the day.