I stood in th
e driveway and waved as his rental car drove across the bridge. My hand involuntarily took the corner of my apron and rose to wipe one small tear as it traced the contour of my cheek.
e driveway and waved as his rental car drove across the bridge. My hand involuntarily took the corner of my apron and rose to wipe one small tear as it traced the contour of my cheek.I breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly... breathe in "He's gone." ...breathe out "sigh... better go up and change the sheets."
He'd made the bed, as he always does. I removed the crocheted pillows and the old quilt, gathered the sheets in my arms taking in the smell of his cologne, and carried them downstairs for washing.
What am I doing? Why, when I miss the children so when they leave us, do I hurry to remove all traces of their being here? Why not leave those sheets on the bed a while longer so I can continue to inhale and take in the whisper of fragrance he left behind?
What am I doing? Why, when I miss the children so when they leave us, do I hurry to remove all traces of their being here? Why not leave those sheets on the bed a while longer so I can continue to inhale and take in the whisper of fragrance he left behind?
Does my home really need to be so tidy? Do I need to rush back into the uncorrupted, unspoiled orderliness that we've become accustomed too? Why not leave the note that he wrote to me on the bathroom mirror? Why not leave the book he borrowed on the windowsill? Why not allow myself a few more days to bask in the memory of having him here? Why not?
So I walked right back upstairs, smiling broadly, and remade the bed with the sheets unwashed. Granted, when I replaced the bedding things were tucked in a little tighter, smoothed a little more... but, next time, they won't be. I'll leave things exactly as he left them for a while. I'll shake my head and wonder who ever taught him to make the bed with the sheets thrown up over the pillows so that the bedspread can't be properly slipped underneath them. I'll mark the passages that we discussed in the book and write in the margins some of the thoughts he had about them. I'll warm myself by reading and re-reading the note on the mirror dozens of times before tossing it in the wastebasket... or placing it in a drawer to be rediscovered, and enjoyed again while putting on socks some time this winter. To toss it would be making a waste of it. And memories of time spent with those you love most are a precious thing to waste.
So I walked right back upstairs, smiling broadly, and remade the bed with the sheets unwashed. Granted, when I replaced the bedding things were tucked in a little tighter, smoothed a little more... but, next time, they won't be. I'll leave things exactly as he left them for a while. I'll shake my head and wonder who ever taught him to make the bed with the sheets thrown up over the pillows so that the bedspread can't be properly slipped underneath them. I'll mark the passages that we discussed in the book and write in the margins some of the thoughts he had about them. I'll warm myself by reading and re-reading the note on the mirror dozens of times before tossing it in the wastebasket... or placing it in a drawer to be rediscovered, and enjoyed again while putting on socks some time this winter. To toss it would be making a waste of it. And memories of time spent with those you love most are a precious thing to waste.
10 comments:
Oh but I don't think we are washing away traces of our visiting children when they leave. I think we are preparing the room/bed/sheets for when they come back. And then it all smells like mom, like they remember it ought to smell like, feel like...even if they don't make the beds like they were taught. They want the beds at 'home' to be as you made them.
email me....find it under my profile.
Susan makes a great point... I loved going to visit my mother and having things the way I remembered them. I even loved eating her spaghetti and shepherds pie that wasn't nearly as tasty as what I made.
I will have the sheets washed and fluffed with sweet smelling fabric softeners and mints on the pillow.(yes, I have done that) I will pull out the whatever seasonal decorations for them to remember and enjoy.
I just decided I want to savor my memories of my chickadees a little while longer before I prepare the house for their memories of home as it used to be when they were still under my wing, and living in our nest.
well I don't wash the sheets then if they are the next guest, the bed is ready as they left it. Am I a horrible mom? lol! beautiful thoughts written so poeticly my dear friend Caryn...thanks for taking the time to share with us.
I don't see my daughter as often as she lives so far away. I do fine day-to-day but after she has been home and she leaves, it is horrible and I too clean up...I wonder why. I should do what you are doing next time....
Thank you for your comments about my blog and I am so touched that you showed it to your son. Thank you so much and I am giving you a big hug....Michelle..
That was a gentle, thought-provoking post. His note was a nice touch; you must have done a fine job of mothering. I don't generally change the sheets until I know someone else is coming to sleep, but that doesn't happen very often. They are too far away.
Oh, that touched my heart in a big way. I used to be a neatnick. Gave that up--when I had to (I surrendered, I guess)--and discovered there was no need to be quite so fastidious. There is an art to being at home without letting things go.
I hope your son reads this, prints it, and keeps it forever.
Well, I mulled this over for a while. My "kids" - my daughter and her family, come twice a year for several weeks each time. When they leave we are worn out and sad. We do start cleaning right away, changing the beds and putting away the toys. I think it makes us feel better because we are taking charge instead of just brooding over their going away. I have tried leaving things out as they were for the kids, but that just bugs me. I'm more content getting back to normal at home and calling them on the phone.
However, the beautiful way in which you expressed your feelings grabbed at my heart. Thank you.
Wow. This is a wonderful, sensitive, powerful piece. I loved it.
Fun as always. I will have you know that after you have gone home from a visit with me I am sad too. I like just having you around to bounce ideas off of or just to talk to.
I love the pix of the note. My kids (#1 and #2) are note writers. I love to receive them. In fact I just got one this evening which I need to respond to...haha.
Thanks for reading and commenting on my blog. I don't always have time to read everyone else's blog. But I am grateful for your insites and compliments.
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