What "Mome" Is
Every snow-topped tree
strong under the weight of a thousand crystal burdens
sparkling in the sun and cold,
A treed arena of sap-licked benches
and protective fir branches
and the small of fresh trees.
Sunshine through the window on the bedspread,
sudden warmth and comfort,
A pink nightgown wrapped in rhymes
and afgans and bunnies in acorn-topped houses,
covered with cool chocolate cookies,
and three squeezes and four letters.
An ancient portrait - an elegant beauty
with a gold frame smiling sweetly,
a premonition of you to come,
draped with smooth beads
in a blue dress towering on heels and curls
and dangling ambition earrings and feathers.
The laughter in dancing
in a rainy kitchen on a night
with a song replayed and repeated
in gleeful tromps of circling and giggles,
and the smile in sudden running,
of walk to run with one sly energy burst.
Love inked in <3 's and "hello sweetpea"s
seeped in paper napkins,
a secret smile crumpled with a sandwich,
and a misshaped ring,
years of wear around my finger,
reminders of love taken into the cloudy world. Decoded:
Mom loves snow-covered trees; I think of driving along a snowy pass and her pointing out how beautiful the forest looks. And in our backyard on the coast, several fir trees grew together, branches intertwined, and Mom hollowed out the center and put a bench in the center. It was like my own secret tree room; I loved it, except for all the sticky sap.
I loved her bedroom in our first house in Bend, the way the sunlight came in, and I liked to lay on her bed and talk. Our favorite book to read was about bunnies, and my favorite cookie she makes is a no-back chocolate oatmeal. She used to give my hand three squeezes to mean "I love you." For awhile, I was pretty sure everyone knew what three squeezes meant.
She has this painting of a young woman dressed up that I swear looks just like her. It reminds me of her business woman look of the 80's with the big curled hair and big earrings and big shoulder pads. I was so proud of how professional and beautiful and powerful my mom was.
One of my favorite memories was a night when we had a spontaneous dance party in the kitchen to Eddie Rabbit's "I Love a Rainy Night." We must've put it on repeat five times. I thought my mom was cool and playful and fun. She could be so spontaneous and shockingly full of life.
She used to always make my lunch, even when I was in high school and insisted that I could make my own lunch. She usually wrote a little love note on my napkin, which by middle school was soooo embarrassing and I'd have to pull it quick out of my lunchsack and hide it from friends, while I secretly felt so flattered.
And she had a small silver ring that she bought at a Saturday market when she was 18. She wore it on her right hand but claimed that my dad, when he met her in college, thought maybe she was married because of that ring. Over the years, it became bent and was no longer a perfect circle. She gave it to me for good luck in love... which I don't think it brought me but I used to love to wear it.
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