My Mama’s gone…………
:sigh: You’d think after 10 years of living on different islands at opposite ends of the Caribbean, I’d be used to telling my Mother good bye. It never gets easier, I always miss her like hell.
This visit was especially nice, I can’t tell you how great it was to have her around. My fridge is so impossibly full of so much food, I am going to have to gain like ten pounds to consume it, give it to the Ancestors and/or take it and give it to the vagrants in Port of Spain. Lawd, lawd….
So during the last week, my brother’s girlfriend came to spend quite a bit of time up at my apartment, her and her two little girls. It was like totally political, because I know the only reason she was up here was so she could let my mother comb her over to see if she was worthy of her one and only boy child.
I am glad to report she liked her a lot. It’s just such a pity that I liked her too, and that seems to mean nothing, people are the way they are.
It was a hoot. Kids are great for energising a house, believe you me. Nothing I owned was off limits, and considering the relative quietness of my space, let me tell you too, all the lovely giggles and tickles and kisses and tears and comforting and talk and everything that went on in here, was great.
She and I hardly actually talked with one another, but she was cordial and I was as open as I could be, I even gave her a river rock that Osun let me take. Somehow though, it’s hard to see how things will ever be the same between us.
I know she misses my brother who’s touring London at the moment, and it was good for us all to spend some time together if she is really serious about working it out with my brother.
That’s about all I have to say about that.
As for my Mudsy, she was a riot the whole time. I was looking for sympathy from my friends, because when I put her in the taxi, I couldn’t stop my tears. Because no matter what ya know, that’s still my Mummy. My friends were real nice to me, but I couldn’t help it, I really, really missed her from the moment I got up this morning.
I was telling one of the girls at work that she was gone, and she said in an understanding tone, “Your hands and your feet are gone.”
I wonder if that’s a saying, written down somewhere, and who said it, but it’s true that your mother is the hands you use to do everything in life and the feet you use to get there. It’s true a mother’s love is a special thing.
She knows me better than anyone I guess, and in some ways she doesn’t know me at all. I think that’s true about all of us.
Mummy told some friends of mine that I was always a serious child, “From the time she was small, she always preferred to read a book. Even when she was a teenager, she was never much into parties and going out.”
It’s true, but I think of myself as a happy person these days…. just that my having fun isn’t determined by whether I go out and party on weekends, or that I have men running after me. My happiness seems to be determined by the right that I do every day and the things I try to right if I have done wrong.
That said, I would love to be a party girl… I think I should be enjoying my youth and beauty and glorious privilage it is to be able to use my body for the joyful expression that runs central to dancing to music, almost any kind of music. To dance and turn on my feet, swing my hips and ‘throw my bottom’ as my mother calls it.
Maybe it won’t be boring anymore, maybe it will be fun like never before.
So who’s up for a party?