{the.wednesday.whistle}

dear Mikki and Katie…

it was the first holiday season after my parents divorce. your Mema and i had just moved into a new apartment on upper main street in Thomaston…one much warmer than our drafty apartment on the Keag that we had only survived in the winter before by shutting off all but two rooms and sitting close to a kerosine heater at night to keep our teeth from chattering. the apartment was big, at least it seemed big when i was six years old,  but what i remember being special about it was our claw foot tub that allowed for deep sea diving adventures or mermaid expeditions aplenty. Mema would fill it up for me…so full that the water slopped over the sides and onto the uneven wood floor below. i thought it sounded like waves on the rocks, but Mema was never really impressed with my imagination that way.

but, what i recall more than anything about that apartment was the first Christmas we spent there together.  it had been a hard year full of difficult changes for us both, and the holidays only amplified the sounds of family separation. our Christmas tree stood naked in the living room. it was bare, but it was up. Mema stood  back to inspect, and then slapped a box of Legs pantyhose plastic eggs she must have been collecting for months onto the the table. {can you believe that pantyhose used to come in plastic eggs…too cool, right!?} she started cutting fabric and tying bows, and curling ringlets of ribbon, and meticulously gluing, and when she was done they were spontaneously stunning Christmas ornaments. i sat down and threaded popcorn and cranberries on a string beside her in awe of the creation out of practically nothing.  joyful music rattled out of our old radio and she hummed along as she worked. {we didn’t have a tv} our tree was beautiful that year. perfect even.

about 3 years ago when Mema was up for a visit, she handed me a box. {you know how she is always trying to get rid of stuff in her house by bringing it to ours, so i can eventually dump it off on you two}

“i just have to get rid of these.”  she said, disgusted.

“of what?” i said with a whine thinking it would be yet another box of my old toys that would just sit in the basement until our next move, that would then sit in that basement until the next move, etc. i opened the box to find what remained of our Legs pantyhose ornaments, the ribbon and fabric still crisp and unfaded despite over 20 years of storage. my heart hiccuped.

“oh i love these….why do you want to get rid of them??” i asked still looking at the handmade tender morsels of memories.

“because they are awful. don’t you remember why we did them?” i shook my head to her question. “we couldn’t afford ornaments that year so we had to make these things.” she said this as if i should have known and would instantly remember as soon as the words spilled out of her mouth. i didn’t remember that part at all. i thought we had made them for fun.

“oh…..i didn’t know.” i glowed as i accepted the box and tucked them carefully away in the upstairs closet where they still have a shelf all their own.

girls, i don’t remember a single gift i got that year. not one. that one moment…that very tiny piece of time, was an exquisite every day moment that turned into the most beautiful memory for me. grand events, grand moments {like Christmas itself, or the presents you get, or a wedding day, or anything on super scale} are good and nice. but it’s the seemingly insignificant,  minuscule slices of life that create the real magic.

like the way you both get up so early in the morning {4:45am today} so happy and cheerful; like the way your lashes flicker when you dream, like the way you dance silly in the living room some nights before bed…..

all my love darlings,

mommy

p.s. daily mantra: nothing really fails….{unknown}