Saturday, April 23, 2005

COMFORT AND SECURITY

I am slowly waking up.  But I don't open my eyes, yet.  I feel like I am floating awake.  I can hear the drone of a bee outside the open window. 

I am in my mother's bed.  The big iron bed that was my grandmother's.  There is a sheet over me and I feel as if I am sinking down into the mattress.  I have been so sick, but I've had such a nice rest.  Now I hear a fly buzzing about.  I feel a little bit of a warm breeze coming through the window and it brushes a light kiss on my face.

I slowly open my eyes.  My mother is sitting beside me on the bed, facing me, reading a magazine.  I realize I'd been hearing the rustle of the pages as she turned them.  As she's reading she is slowly waving a fly swatter over me, shooing the fly that got in and that is trying to interrupt my rest.  My eyes close and I sink back into sleep.

I wake again.  I am warmer.  I don't really need the light sheet over me now, but I am too drowsy to push it off.  The warm breeze is making the white lacy curtains flutter a little at the window.  Now I hear the drone of a lawn mower in the distance.  I drift to sleep again.

I wake, but don't open my eyes.  There is a nice, comforting sound coming to me. A sloft swish, swish, swish, a muted thump, then a slight rustling.  Then the whole thing repeated.  I listen to this repeated refrain a few times before I push to open my eyes.  I see my mother at the foot of the bed, ironing.  Swish, swish goes her iron over the garment.  A soft, muted thump when she sets it down on the ironing board.  A slight rustle as she moves the garment around on the board or takes it off to replace it with another.  Occasionally she hums a partial tune, quietly, almost to herself.  What a wonderfully soft, gentle, comforting series of sounds  to awake to.                                                                                                                

 This is my "happy place" thought.  I was about six years old.  I don't know what I'd been sick with, but I can remember waking up and seeing my mother sitting there reading, fanning flies away from me.  And I remember waking to the sounds of her ironing and quietly humming.  Whenever I need a little comfort, a thought to take me back to a happy, secure feeling, this is the memory I turn to.

 

 

1 comment:

gravydogg55 said...

 HERE IS SAM AGAIN,
                                  YOUR MEMORY OF MOTHER BROUGHT TO MIND MY MOTHER USING A TREADLE SEWING MACHINE, SHE ALWAYS REFERRED TO IT AS 'THE MACHINE' , AND I AS A YOUNG CHILD WANTED TO WORK THE TREADLE FOR HER, NOT REALIZING THAT SHE NEEDED IT TO STOP AT THE CORRECT INSTANT.
     MOTHER ALSO HUMMED WHILE USING HER MACHINE AND HELD HER LOWER JAW SIDEWISE WHILE HUMMING. SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL LADY AND LONG WAVY RED HAIR, SOMETIMES KEEPING IT IN A 'BUN'.
    I LOVE TO REMEMBER HER SMILE WHEN I WOULD MOCK HER WITH MY JAW SIDEWISE AND HUM WITH HER.    sam