It's so weird that making the bed, would make me think of her, because of all her fine qualities, and she had many, keeping a clean and tidy home was not one of them. She was more into the "cluttered and very lived in" look. Now that I understand personality types better, I realize this was part of her profile. She was an extrovert who thrived on social interaction, the life of any party, and staying home and cleaning house probably was low on her priority list. I believe it's true that we are born with distinct personality traits and even though I am my mother's daughter, I am the complete opposite in this regard. I can remember when I was in middle school, she had planned a "surprise" pajama party for my birthday. I was excited to have my friends over, and spent the day before they came cleaning the house. ( Are you kidding? Who does that at twelve years old?! I'll tell you. Little girls who are destined to become type A control freaks!) Of course she knew that I was on to her plan, but when the time came for the party, I acted completely surprised. I will say in her defense, while I was cleaning the bathroom, she was probably whipping up an amazing cake and party foods. That woman could cook anything!
On a normal morning, making the bed, for me, is as quick and easy as brushing my teeth. A firmly entrenched habit that I have down to a science, I've even learned how to completely make one side of the bed before going to the other . This is the most efficient way to get the job done, and I'm all into efficiency. But today was the "strip the bed down to the mattress and change the sheets day", a task that I really dread. It takes longer than normal and bending over and lifting the mattress, hurts my aging back. As I was working, thoughts of mama flooded my mind and I just smiled, thinking how after all these years, I still make the bed the way she taught me. She may not have made her own bed every day, but somewhere along the way, she taught me, what she felt was the "proper" way to make a bed, tucking in the flat sheet down at the bottom, just so, complete with mitered corners.
Later in the day as I was putting clean towels away, there she was again. I fold my towels the way my mother folded her towels. Ok, darn it. I guess it's just time to sit down and have a good cry, because I miss my mama! Maybe the adult me is a little hormonal too.
Family life is so interesting. The simple, often mundane things we do day in and day out influence us more than we realize. When making a bed or folding towels can revive sweet memories between a mother, who has passed through the veil to her daughter on the other side, then those activities become much more than chores on a to-do list. They become sacred ties that bind. I look forward to the day when I'll see my mom again. Until then, I'm finding that if I look closely, I see hints of her presence all around me, possibly even a slight reflection when I look into the mirror.
And then there are my own children. What will they remember? Because deep down inside, you know your mother is always with you.
