Your images ring so very true. What a lovely and touching evocation, thank you!
I'm sorry that I missed your piece last May, a time when I was distracted with my own decluttering, and immersion in memory. Like you, I found an outlet in writing a memoir piece.
Thanks for reading, Peter. I read your decluttering piece and couldn’t help smiling. My husband has boxes and boxes of “things” in the basement. He was an accountant, so some are bankers’ boxes of paperwork from his business, but I have no idea what’s in some of the others. I hope someday he’ll get to decluttering too!
Like me, he may well find long-forgotten treasures tucked away in some of those boxes.
Perhaps he’s less of a procrastinator than I was. But sooner or later, the decisions begin- what to throw out? Wishing you both luck in this adventure!
What a lovely piece to read today. Your memories about your mother stirred up memories for me about mine. My mother always took great pride in her appearance, too. Always lipstick. Always a pair of earrings. Hair always "done".
Loved your ending, too. There she is and always will be.
Linda, this is breathtaking, a love letter threaded through memory, scent, and the devotion of hands, the labor of love. The dresser a portal, to the past and to the essence of the mother, captured in gesture, in ritual, in red lipstick pressed to tissue. Your imagery is exquisite each detail full of longing and reverence. That final moment in the mirror is breathtaking. There she is, indeed.
Charming! Could just feel the emotions all through the narrative . I was transported back to my own childhood as my mother went through her amazingly similar rituals . Nice treat for Mother’s Day. Thank you!
My Mom, young and vibrant in the 1950s, is a living and present living being in my life, God bless her soul in His Presence.
A gift of long life (now 77) is that these moments live, from 70 years ago, as alive as if they occurred, maybe not yesterday, but certainly last month.
The mind retains the sounds, the look from the boyhood eyes adoringly to the loving Mom, who taught him the horrors of the Third Reich's occupation of her native Charleroi, of girlhood friends sent to forced labor or executed, of bomb raids, of terroristic Army raids, at an age, where her social status should have had her as a Debutante in Bruxelles, but instead saved her life -- Thank God, for she was an RN and NEEDED in war-torn Belgium.
You, Sue Fleck, have those days with Mom still present with you, as I know from sweet experience.
Thank you for your touching story about your mother and her dresser and mirror. Your description of her making herself up at the mirror brought back vivid early childhood memories for me of my mother at her vanity with silver brush, hand mirror, comb and compact. Watching her transforming her appearance into a “ready to appear in public” state bordered on wondrous.
As I reflect on her this Mother’s Day, I realize that on balance, she was a good mother even if she wasn’t perfect. I would give her a B+. I learned life’s lessons well from her and I even cherish some of her philosophy. In short, she was loving and caring. What more could I ask for?
I think my sister claimed that special piece of furniture when she and I and my brother divided my parents’ belongings following their move into a senior’s facility. We each chose what held special meaning for us.
Wonderfully written and it takes me back to memories of my mom…not exactly the same but the same. And my grandmother with her powder ( my mom never used anything but lipstick in my memory). The Evening in Paris gift set was the go to present for my mom but what she really saved for special occasions was Shalimar.
So much beauty in this writing, which also feels particularly poignant for me at this moment—reflecting as I am on having now lost both my parents. Thank you for sharing.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are hard for those who have lost parents. I still have my mom, but because of her cognitive impairment, she is not the same person she once was. It feels like a loss in one way, and in another I'm glad to still have some part of her. Thank you very much for reading and taking the time to comment.
Your images ring so very true. What a lovely and touching evocation, thank you!
I'm sorry that I missed your piece last May, a time when I was distracted with my own decluttering, and immersion in memory. Like you, I found an outlet in writing a memoir piece.
https://open.substack.com/pub/peternewman/p/the-great-declutter?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web
I can almost feel the surface of that mahogany dresser through your writing.
Thanks for reading, Peter. I read your decluttering piece and couldn’t help smiling. My husband has boxes and boxes of “things” in the basement. He was an accountant, so some are bankers’ boxes of paperwork from his business, but I have no idea what’s in some of the others. I hope someday he’ll get to decluttering too!
Like me, he may well find long-forgotten treasures tucked away in some of those boxes.
Perhaps he’s less of a procrastinator than I was. But sooner or later, the decisions begin- what to throw out? Wishing you both luck in this adventure!
Hi Linda,
What a lovely piece to read today. Your memories about your mother stirred up memories for me about mine. My mother always took great pride in her appearance, too. Always lipstick. Always a pair of earrings. Hair always "done".
Loved your ending, too. There she is and always will be.
Linda, this is breathtaking, a love letter threaded through memory, scent, and the devotion of hands, the labor of love. The dresser a portal, to the past and to the essence of the mother, captured in gesture, in ritual, in red lipstick pressed to tissue. Your imagery is exquisite each detail full of longing and reverence. That final moment in the mirror is breathtaking. There she is, indeed.
Thank you for reading my piece and for your kind words.
I love how memories rise from a piece of furniture, a keepsake, now yours. A beautiful story.
Lovely!
What a beautiful ode to your wonderful mother. Thank you for sharing her with us!
Thank you, Deborah.
beautiful just beautiful.
Thank you so muc!
What a beautiful, heart-felt piece of writing. Thank you Linda. It brought tears to my eyes.
Thank you for your kind words, Silvana.
Charming! Could just feel the emotions all through the narrative . I was transported back to my own childhood as my mother went through her amazingly similar rituals . Nice treat for Mother’s Day. Thank you!
Sue Fleck: Exactly the right memory and feeling.
My Mom, young and vibrant in the 1950s, is a living and present living being in my life, God bless her soul in His Presence.
A gift of long life (now 77) is that these moments live, from 70 years ago, as alive as if they occurred, maybe not yesterday, but certainly last month.
The mind retains the sounds, the look from the boyhood eyes adoringly to the loving Mom, who taught him the horrors of the Third Reich's occupation of her native Charleroi, of girlhood friends sent to forced labor or executed, of bomb raids, of terroristic Army raids, at an age, where her social status should have had her as a Debutante in Bruxelles, but instead saved her life -- Thank God, for she was an RN and NEEDED in war-torn Belgium.
You, Sue Fleck, have those days with Mom still present with you, as I know from sweet experience.
Thank you! It's amazing the little things we remember, even years later, isn't it?
Hello Linda,
Thank you for your touching story about your mother and her dresser and mirror. Your description of her making herself up at the mirror brought back vivid early childhood memories for me of my mother at her vanity with silver brush, hand mirror, comb and compact. Watching her transforming her appearance into a “ready to appear in public” state bordered on wondrous.
As I reflect on her this Mother’s Day, I realize that on balance, she was a good mother even if she wasn’t perfect. I would give her a B+. I learned life’s lessons well from her and I even cherish some of her philosophy. In short, she was loving and caring. What more could I ask for?
I think my sister claimed that special piece of furniture when she and I and my brother divided my parents’ belongings following their move into a senior’s facility. We each chose what held special meaning for us.
Thanks again for evoking these memories for me.
Archie Fineberg
Thank you for your kind words!
Beautifully written and bittersweet.
Many thanks for reading and for your lovely comment.
Beautifully written. Doesn’t remind me of my mother (other than the lipstick which I hated on my cheek!) but it evokes a real person.
It's funny how mothers can be universally similar and different at the same time. Thanks so much for reading.
Wonderfully written and it takes me back to memories of my mom…not exactly the same but the same. And my grandmother with her powder ( my mom never used anything but lipstick in my memory). The Evening in Paris gift set was the go to present for my mom but what she really saved for special occasions was Shalimar.
So many women, like your mother and mine, had a signature or favourite perfume scent. It's amazing what memories the sense of smell can trigger!
A wonderfully evocative piece; those lipstick prints on kleenex, the frailty of old age...could have been about my mum. Beautiful work. 💐🩷
I appreciate your taking the time to read and to leave such a lovely comment. Thank you!
So much beauty in this writing, which also feels particularly poignant for me at this moment—reflecting as I am on having now lost both my parents. Thank you for sharing.
Mother's Day and Father's Day are hard for those who have lost parents. I still have my mom, but because of her cognitive impairment, she is not the same person she once was. It feels like a loss in one way, and in another I'm glad to still have some part of her. Thank you very much for reading and taking the time to comment.
A tribute straight from the heart. Congrats.
Thank you so much!