My mother passed away almost four years ago. I think of her often and miss being able to talk to her. I have things of hers in my home like these buttons that mean a lot to me, little things that keep her energy with me. It’s nice to have them along with my memories.
Mom made all of my clothes when I was young, and she taught me how to sew. We had a chest of drawers in our hallway that was full of everything needed for sewing. I would look through all of the drawers, because it was like there was treasure in each one. I remember there were jars full of buttons like these, in every color, shape and size.
My mom liked to whistle, especially when she was in the kitchen. I’m not normally much of a whistler, but I find myself doing it every once in a while. I just did it last week when I was working in the yard. I’m not conscious that I’m even doing it, but then I realize I’m doing it, and then I smile and think of her. It catches me off guard, but in the nicest way.
Mom also knew her family history. She could go back generations and keep you riveted with her retellings. She made these people come alive, and I wish I had paid better attention, because I’m afraid that most of this information has been lost with her. I do have some of her genealogy, though, for which I am grateful.
My daughter and I were very recently talking about my mom, about my whistling and other things we remember about her. I think about what reminds me of my mother and I wonder what reminds my daughter of me. What has she already “inherited” that she might not be aware of yet. Hopefully it will surprise her when she comes across it, and it will catch her off guard in the nicest way!