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About My Mom
My mom is always the last to leave.
It doesn’t necessarily matter where we
are, or what we’re doing, or even if we have a connection to the event in question. If life is there, if meaning is there, then
we’re there, until it’s done.
It’s when she watches an old couple
quietly performing bluegrass together on a street in Boulder until they’ve packed up
their instruments and voices and headed home for the night. It’s when she runs alongside the drumline of
the University of Colorado marching band with more vim and vigor than the drum leader,
until the parade is over, and then stays until the last member of the band has gone home,
just enjoying the residue of it all. It’s when we outlast concertgoers, performers,
crew, and conductor alike at a concert, after coming to know all about the security
guard’s job and interests and all the rest.
I
think it’s because lingering gives her (and thankfully, as a result, me as well) a
chance to just watch people enjoying each other, to get to talk to and be enriched by
someone outside of our normal world, to step back for a second and look at things
differently.
The common trait, I think, in these, and so
many more, moments is that they’re opportunities to see a different slice of life, to
be enriched by that which we’d miss if we didn’t decide to stop for a second. I think she just knows how to stop for a second. Despite the pulls and stresses all around,
something in her pulls her to stop. And man
oh man, when she does – it is a thing to see, the joy and energy it fills her with. I bet you’ve seen it – her energy and
excitement, overflowing.
An example: if you’re lucky, and she
thinks you’re not looking, you might see her skip.
In those moments when the energy overflows – and walking just
isn’t enough. When the little kid
“I’m happy to be alive” ebullience takes over the adult  in her.
And honestly I think that’s why no
matter where we are, my mom becomes friends with an entire town in minutes. Why tollbooth drivers on our drives back from New
Hampshire swap recipes with her. Why so many
people who she’s just met confide in her, tell her things they probably keep secret
from people they know far better. Why from
the time I was a little kid, my friends talked to her like she was a friend and not an
adult.
Because when you see someone that in love
with life, that engaged in it, barriers don’t seem to matter anymore. Age, class, education level – all those
normal impediments - well, they kind of just fall away. Because you just want to know a person like that.
I’ve seen it… in every phase of my
life, I’ve seen people of all kinds, all shapes and sizes – in my mom’s
“world” or not – enriched by
that ebullience. Looking at life, and
themselves, just a little bit differently after they leave conversations with her.
Goodness knows, I have.
I want to go on. There is so much I want to say about her - in
fact, I probably could for pages, but in the interest of space I’ll leave it at this
and just ask for your help. Send any stories
or tidbits that you want to share about my mom, and I’ll put them up on the
“stories and pictures” page. And
since I can’t stop myself, I’ll probably be putting a story or two there as
well! |
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