Every family has those stories.
You know the ones I’m referring to.
They are the stories that come out at the end of an evening gathered around the campfire, or maybe a night of playing Euchre with friends.
Usually everyone has heard the tale many times before, but they all sit back and listen again with a smile on their face.
In honor of Mom’s birthday (she would have been 68 today), I have a quick family story to share.
Car Rides & Kids
The story begins with Mom, my sister and brother, and I returning from the grocery store in the van, heading home. I would have been around 10-12 at the time, with my sister a couple of years younger. David would have been a toddler.
We were acting up, like kids do. I imagine that we were arguing and being loud, as Mom was trying to concentrate on driving and just getting home after a hectic trip of grocery shopping with three kids.
I remember being on a dirt road, when Mom’s patience had reached a breaking point. She immediately pulled the van over and made the comment that continued to make us smile years later…
“That’s it. I’m getting a switch.”
The Threatened ‘Switch’
Mom jumped out of the van, shut the door, and proceeded to break a small stick off of a tree growing alongside the road. At this time, Bobbie (yes, I’m blaming it on my younger sister), leaned over and hit the lock button.
Now, I don’t have a great memory. I can hardly remember what day it is let alone something that happened years ago. However, I absolutely, without a doubt, remember the look Mom had on her face as she turned to look through the window of the van, holding her ‘switch’ as she realized that she was now locked out of the running vehicle with her three young children inside.
It was one of those head whipping around, incredulous looks, with her little pixie haircut falling around her face.
She looked so cute, and harmless. I can’t tell you how much my heart spills over with love for her, thinking about this memory. If I was an artist, I’d recreate Mom’s image in that exact moment.
“Open the door. Now,” she said with a hint of a smile.
“Put down the switch, and we’ll open the door,” we replied back. Bobbie was a little saucy at this point. We were young, but we knew we had the upper hand.
“I mean it,” she countered. “Open the door.”
“Mom, put the switch down. We will be good,” I replied.
There was some more back and forth that ended how you would probably expect. Mom threw her ‘switch’ down, (she wasn’t really going to use it anyway), and we unlocked the doors.
Mom gave the obligatory, ‘don’t you ever do that again’ spiel, and Bobbie and I were quiet the rest of the car ride home, although the smiles were still on our face.
It’s a story that was referred to every now and then when Mom would express some level of frustration with one of us kids.
“Are you going to go get a switch?” we’d ask her with a grin.
She’d smile back and respond, “I’ll take the car keys with me next time. I sure know that.”
One Day at a Time
Holidays are difficult. Mom’s birthday is hard. The anniversary of her death is unbearable.
My dad, siblings, and I all cope in our own ways.
Dad buys red roses and delivers them to the vases at the cemetery that stand guard on either side of her gravestone. He connects with her there more than anywhere else.
I’m unsure of what Bobbie and David do. I know that David has a pair of Mom’s glasses sitting in the dashboard of his truck. She’s always riding shotgun with him. Bobbie will post some type of tribute to Mom on a social media site, along with a picture or two.
I write, remembering stories from the past, and just trying to make it through the day.
I miss her so much that the grief can seem too much to bear at times. Smiling in memory of moments like this helps ease some of the pain.
I’m still in survival mode. She was not just my mom, but was also my best friend. I still reach for the phone to call her about some silly thing that happened in my day. I’m not sure when that will ever end.
I’m reminded again that I should have named this website, “BloggingForTherapy.”
Goals for Today:
- Make Meatloaf for the Family
- Call Dad to See How He’s Doing
- Survive One Day at a Time