It's been two years. Sometimes it feels like forever ago; sometimes just yesterday. The best memories I have are of her laughing. We all inherited her sense of humor, though my brother got the most concentrated dose of that gene. The picture above was taken at the Lancaster County Art Association, where she gave so much of her time and talent.
Speaking of that talent. . .
"I wish you could take a special trip," she said to me wistfully. She and my father loved to travel. My sister got the double dose of that gene.
"The only place I really want to go is New Mexico," I told her. She had lived there for just a year in her twenties, but the way she talked about it made it seem like decades. A jar of dirt from that year sat on our kitchen table. It had been there for as long as I could remember. I wanted to experience a land which had that kind of impact, so in 1994 she and my father took me to New Mexico. In their seventies by then, they pushed me in my wheelchair through the rocks and dirt of that hardly accessible terrain. I saw pueblos and petroglyphs, and breathtaking views like the one Mom painted in this picture. I was there for two weeks, and it was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. Now I have the jar of dirt.
So I sit in silence for a moment this day, missing her laugh and remembering--the gifts she gave and the gift she was to my life.
Love you forever, Mom.
What a beautiful tribute, Mary. Did your mom say what it was about visiting New Mexico that left such an impression on her, the inspiration for the jar of dirt? The beauty of the mountains? Georgia O'Keeffe has some wonderful paintings of those mountains.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful painter she was, and how wonderful that the brushstrokes of her hands stay with you in your house, recreating that landscape every day!
ReplyDeleteThat's some special jar of dirt, too. Holy ground.