It is interesting that this prompt is posted the exact day I was reminiscing of times past with my mother. I was speaking with someone yesterday who mentioned that he felt sad that he no longer remembered the voice of his long deceased mother. That made me think about people I love who have passed especially my mother who recently passed this past December. I remember her voice, her off-key voice when singing, her laugh…oh her laugh!! and her cough that was unique to her. She always tried to be a lady even when coughing and would clear her throat a bit like her mother (GrandMaman) but still unique to her. I remember her ankles making that snapping sound when she entered the church when I was little and clearing her throat, I felt so much better knowing she was joining me in the pew closer to the front of the church very soon for the priest in the pulpit high up was quite ominous!
Even when she was sick and her memory was muddled, her voice never changed. I remember sitting in the front seat of the car when I was very little because I was always car sick and leaning my big fat head on her breast always worried my heavy head would crush her tiny breasts.
I remember her singing pop songs of the 50`s missing a few words here and there but her voice would make any hit parade. And of course her signature pinch. She loved with such affection she had to control herself from pinching our cheeks too hard.
I remember her telling me so often, “Dont worry, darling. Dont forget to say your three Hail Mary`s and your Act of Contrition before going to sleep.” And the latter not that long ago.
It’s been a while since I sense your presence and yet, that may be a good sign. You are finally reunited with the love of your love. I had a dream last night. Bette, my feline friend who is named after your nickname was playing hide-and-go-seek in your house. We were in your bedroom. You had been on some health food diet and you were clearing your closet. I was shocked to see such order! Well, we know that that was not a priority for you. And why should it, when you had more important things to do, like sit by the window, sipping your coffee and watch the birds by the river, pecking at the bird feeder. Or getting all dolled up with your designer outfits; applying Lancôme or Clinique to moisten your skin; a touch of ombre à paupière and a trace of eyeliner; before running out to go shopping, applying your favourite rouge à lèvre and la pièce de résitance...three sprays of Shalimar.
Whenever you visited your scent lingered for days and any clothes you gave me, laundry could not remove that faint scent of your eau de toilette…that trace of Colombe.
In my dream, Bette snuck behind the wall of your closet and when I followed, feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I found a slight opening and there was a narrow room with odd trinkets and old furniture. Bette had adopted a small filing cabinet. I had never seen this room. You were busy washing clothes, sorting the closet and your commode. It was as if I was not really there but you sort of knew I was there…It felt like I was watching a movie of you…there was a screen separating us, preventing us from touching, hugging.
When I awakened, I realized this was another little visit. And now you know why I named my feline friend, Bette. I’m so glad you met her.
my shawl breathes scents of Shalimar trace of you
my shawl breathes, reminiscence woven you and me
scents of Shalimar sweet scented sounds your laughter
trace of you faint trails of eau de toilette remind me of you
It was late at night between Christmas and New Year’s, January, 1968. A time where mini skirts,fish-net stockings and short pea coats were the fashion…never warm enough for those winters in Quebec. A tuque or beret was fashionable but never worn covering the ears…that would not be stylish. The walk from the rec centre was several kilometers to her home by the river. How he fell in love with her baby blues…
I was up all night last night writing to catch up and well, my muse was ready so when she’s in the mood, I follow. Not always wise to stretch myself like that when I had only one day off this weekend.
I watched the sun rise in front of my workstation my patio faces east. The sky started its purplish hues, then turned pink and suddenly I looked up from my laptop and this big round ball of bright yellow above the horizon stared at me. I took photos but it would never do it justice what I witnessed. It looked like it was a ball of fire. It reminded me of something I remembered in religion classes, tongues of floating fire. Within minutes the sky turned misty and the sun just shied away. For about twenty minutes I witnessed this and I wonder just how many people actually did see this beautiful act of nature.
I love sunflowers, my nom de plume in French, Tournesol. Here is a Troiku created by Chèvrefeuille which is a series of haiku. To learn more about this form click here.
I close my eyes off and on today and I seem to be in a wabi-sabi mood if that makes any sense. If I let myself float to places of nothingness I feel nano seconds of peace, sometimes sadness but not a hurting sadness. A feeling of when your heart swells and forces you to take a deeper breath, a louder exhalation…a sigh of melancholy. That is my day today…pure, simple and free. I close my eyes and remember those moments nursing my children…those precious moments in the middle of the night…no distractions in those days…no cell phones, no television…no dvd’s either. Just that opportunity to look into their eyes as they look up with wonder, with loving adoration, depending so much on me for love, sustenance and nurturing…those liquid blue eyes gaze at me.
such sweetness/so long ago, I close my eyes/back in time.
A funny thing happened to me on my way home tonight. I dressed warm, ready for my usual bitter cold walk to the metro. I actually look like a burglar dressed up in black, all you can see are my nose and eyes. I still chanced the shortcut out back and there was only about 300 metres with snow drifts to get to the street. No problem. I was quite pleased with myself considering that the street was only half ploughed. The scraper had scraped right to the icy surface. The street looked like a skating rink. No kidding! If more people would have been awake at this time, for sure some might have skated and youngsters would have slid on their boots. I get to the Métro Rosemont and for the first time I see dozens of people inside the small square waiting for their busses. Yep, it is that cold! (Oh did I tell you I froze for an hour Valentine’s evening after my nice café adventure? I waited an hour in the cold for a bus to get home. I was so cold by the time I got home, my body would not get warm enough. I felt feverish and achy all over. Had to call in sick the next day (Sunday) as there was NO way in this century I was braving the cold.)
So back to tonight. I take the métro to Bonaventure and my bus is already there awaiting me (well, it feels good to think so). I get on the bus engrossed in my novel I am reading by Alice Keys, Rose (check her out at Aliceville)…up to Chapter 89 now. Gosh! One thing I do not like about e-readers is you cannot tell if you are close to the end so for the past 20+ chapters I am wondering when that will be. I will let ya’ll know about this book that has captured my attention for the past 2 days now. I am a slow reader and when I want to remember something I highlight it…and read it over. I know, weird but that is me if I read a book that someone I sort of know wrote itJ. I have been too brain dead and tired to write much lately, so I am so glad I have a novel that is keeping me absorbed.
I settle on the bus and open my Kindle again and once I get on le pont Champlain I hear a funny sound. It sounds like a phone but no one is picking up. I feel in my breast pocket of my winter coat and take my new I-phone out and yep, it was for me. I have to change that ringer to match what I had on my Samsung…a little Motown sounds I recognize…not this techno weird stuff.
A colleague tells me I forgot my home keys at the office. OH NO!! NOT AGAIN! My heart drops for a split second and then I realize I am still on the bus, I have not walked the 10 minute walk to my apartment in the cold to discover I did not have my keys and walk back again in the cold to the bus. All I had to do was sit on the warm bus that was going back to Montreal in five minutes. No problem, I tell my colleague but it would be nice if someone is off work to bring the keys to the subway near work so I don’t have to brave the cold walk again to the office. A colleague offers to drive to the Métro with her hubby who was picking her up and she would wait for me there. She has done this already once for me two years ago. Good Lord there are angels on this planet!!
So I stay on the bus, get on the Métro again. Then I see about six Montreal Police officers waiting to check the trains on the line I was taking. Shoot! They have this Miami Vice swagger when they walk, and feathered hair spiked up…nice and messy…in their camo pants and high laced boots…they have been negotiating their pension for the past year and this is one way they are protesting (dressing like this)… …like that’ll get the public respect for law enforcement. I digress…they look in each train and find no one. One police officer takes a snapshot with his phone of a tag from a gang member in my car. I didn’t dare tell him there was another tag next to me near the window…I was in a hurry to get my home keys!! Priorities now people!!
On the ride I read an email on my phone from a person who has been following me on Stigma Hurts Everyone for two years. She wrote a beautiful long letter telling me how my blog impacted on her especially a post I wrote about a homeless person entitled “Do you even see me?” Her words truly touched me how she has changed her attitude towards homelessness now and well, that truly warmed my heart to read this. I had no idea my words could have such an impact!
Then I read another email from my favourite supervisor in Toronto and friend. It is sort of a chain letter regarding an angel and G-d will do two BIG positive things for me in the next few days. As I read this I wanted to answer but didn’t have WiFi. I wanted to reply right away: G-d already did the two amazing things…my colleague who was meeting me at the Métro with my keys and this beautiful letter from a follower of my blog.
I am beaming just about now and my chest is bursting in my mom’s psychedelic housecoat (smiles).
I love days like today…not expecting anything and then being blessed with such kindness it makes me want to cry with joy.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 