There is a certain gray, windswept, evening sky that almost always makes me feel homesick ... for my elementary school. This seems unusual to me as 1) I didn’t go to school in the evening and 2) elementary school wasn’t a particularly memorable time. As a matter of fact I had school phobia in two distinct episodes, was sent to the remedial reading classes and the school psychologist, and separated from my best friend at the urging of a teacher. However, when I look up at this particular sky (usually in spring) I feel...homesick. Today has been one of these days.
A friend of mine wrote a short story highlighting a series of Christmas miracles that had transformed her one year and the premise of the story was that we all change history to suit our needs. I’ve been thinking about that with regard to this melancholy longing I’ve felt for this time in my life. Perhaps it is more about the people who populated my life then, all gone now, but who gave me a sense of comfort and belonging and hope for who I was to be. This would make sense as I am now a parent and am concerned about imparting this same sense of being to my own daughter. Anyway, would it be all that bad if all my memories were eventually transformed into happy, pleasant , and life affirming. Perhaps a less sadistic dementia. A form that would leave one larger than life versus a shadow of a former self.
The irony of being a mother myself at his time in my life is it comes at a time when my own mother and grandmothers are no longer alive. It leaves me feeling a little marooned but there is a freedom in it, too. Still, I can't help but wonder, sometimes aloud, what my mother would have made of Maisie.
Happy Mother's Day to mothers everywhere and of every species.
