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My mom "Brought home the bacon and fried it up in a pan." This idiom respawned in the women's movement, as women joined the workforce and worked from 9 to 5. My mom got up every morning at 5:45 AM, ironed our clothes, made breakfast while simultaneously crock potting dinner, then my dad drove her to the subway, she rode through lengthy tunnels to the heart of Midtown Manhattan, walked crosstown, rode an elevator to the office where she worked as a dental assistant all day on her feet. Eight hours later she rode the subway home (usually standing), walked 15 blocks home where she dealt with dishes, homework, serving dinner, more dishes, baths, and finally bedtime.
My mom did that dance for over 25 years. I said I would never be like my mom, but I am impressed with what she did. Her level of energy still astounds me to this day.
I lost my mom in 2019 she was almost 90 when she died. One of the things I remember about her in my childhood is how she would spray Halston perfume on right before she left for work. I remember standing in front of her vanity after she left inhaling the fragrance, imagining my mom walking crosstown with a stride in her step, standing out in the masses of commuters, silently humming the tune of an army of women now working in droves. She was at home, than gone like she slipped into the ether. Oddly, this is what I remember most about my mom as if it just happened this morning. I can still smell her Halston perfume. When she passed it was just like her fragrance, real magic, she's gone really?
One of the gifts my mom gave me besides the spoils of her hard labor, was the belief "That this too shall soon pass." Whatever I was going through, no matter how bloody awful in my mind, my mom was the calm reassuring voice at the other end of the phone. The silent listener across from the kitchen table. She always let me know in her motherly way that nothing shocked her anymore, and get a grip.
She died just two months before the coronavirus pandemic. In some ways I am grateful that she was spared the chaos at the hospitals, and virtual funerals. If she was still alive, I wonder if she would insist on going out despite lockdowns, or if she would take it in stride. I miss her everyday, these days more than ever as my usual forms of diversion have been replaced with long hours at home contemplating past decisions in Dickensian fashion.
Her wisdom prevails even in this darkest hour, "This too shall soon pass" is what I tell my husband and son. I walk and smell flowers and find reassurance in daily sunrises, morning glories and day lilies that open their buds faithfully. Another day is here what a gift!
I know why my mom worked like a champ rarely complaining, finding joy in our successes. She was receiving the ultimate gift of love and accomplishment just basking in the moment.
Mom I get it, and I promise to carry the baton that you ushered for decades. I promise to have faith, patience, and fortitude.
“A mother is your first friend, your best friend, your forever friend.” —Unknown
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