Frigid temperatures spark memories

I find it hard to believe that it was three years ago that I got a call at 3 a.m. telling me that my mom was gone. Some days it feels like yesterday, other times it feels like she has been gone forever.

When we got to the hospital that awful night, I wanted to lay my head on her chest to hear her heartbeat so I could tell the doctors that they were wrong. She was merely sleeping. I was afraid to try it because then it would be real. I stepped out into the hallway to cry.

I like to think that I am used to her being gone. I have come to realize that she now resides in that part of my brain that houses memories of all the family and friends who have left this life and who now know without a doubt the answer to that most puzzling question of all, what happens after our bodies die?

We had a mild winter that year. My brothers both insisted the good weather was Mom’s doing as she always cautioned us about the weather. We used to say that if there was a cloud anywhere on earth she would tell us to stay home. Not one of us obeyed. 

This past week was cold enough to make up for several mild winters. It made me long for the little house with its coal stove. That coal stove kept us more than toasty and it happily consumed any plastic toys my brothers added to the flames. The little house is what we called the place where my step-father, mom and brothers lived. I grew up in the pink house down the road. The little house used to be a toll booth and subsequent owners added on until it had a living room, kitchen and two bedrooms. Notice I didn’t list a bathroom. That was outside. The biggest and most robust tulips any of us ever saw lined up behind it in spring. The house did get an indoor bath after I graduated and had my own home and family.

The weatherman says this upcoming week will be unseasonably warm. I think Mother Nature can’t make up her mind or maybe she is toying with us.

The warm weather will certainly erase all the tracks in the snow. The big blue spruce in the backyard must be a refuge for any critter wanting to get warm as most of the footprints lead into or away from it.

The plant catalogs that keep appearing in the mailbox tell me that winter won’t last forever. Phil, the pampered groundhog, must be finding some courage. He didn’t see his shadow. After the below zero temperatures last week, we can only hope he is right. I wonder if Mother Nature and Phil conspired to give us a break to repair any water lines that may have broken. Or maybe they are planning a surprise.

The sun is out. The sky is blue. Our loved ones are always with us. They reside in our memories and weave themselves into our lives. We tell the stories they always told, except for the ones we never liked. We use the same words, the same accents, and the same expressions they were known for.

The temperatures are supposed to be higher for the upcoming week. Things are looking up. I hope that the snow has melted off the sidewalks and I can get outside for some fresh air. I also hope that the snow melt doesn’t cause the river to overflow. I should quit longing for what used to be and enjoy what is now.