Alli (neugotik) wrote,

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A note to my mom & dad -

I wonder what kind of impression I make on my kids - will I be remembered for how I often did my mopping in night after tucking them into bed? Probably not; will I be remembered as Mom who would climb under the blankets & play fort & blanket monster with them? Will I be known for any particular cooking or baking? Will I be connected to certain music, songs, types of music? Will I be associated with certain sports, like soccer or hiking, will I be reminded of certain annual holiday crafts or holiday foods, or annual or season trips? Drives to the lake cabin, flights out to Oregon, trips to lakes or playgrounds, or the tendency to buy whole grain breads and pastas - the regular morning coffee making with my noisy espresso machine? the appreciation for good books, or puzzles & games? How I could always be talked into baking, how I got organic popcorn, or how I let them pick out their own style of Mac & Cheese? How I sing too loudly & without hestitation in the car, I think that one will probably stick, cause both the girls sing along with me at the top of their little lungs - it's really cool. So... will it be my big and various boots and flame painted sandles, or my weak spot for coffee shop side-trips, or my tendency to always be late, or my distraction if I was allowed to sit down at a computer? Will it be all the natural oil soap varieties I have stashed in a tray by the bath & let the girls use all they want to.. lemon, coconut, jasmine or plain?... will it be how I open all the curtains & shades every morning to let light in, or how I keep trying to have house plants here & there... nursing them along in the bathroom & living room - will it be how I bought black & white bowls with patterns of squares and circles on the inside? Will it be how I was always too cheap & environmental to buy papertowels or paper napkins "use the clothe ones" -- Or what? I mean, the kids probably notice all kinds of stuff I don't. I hope it's good stuff.

Me, my Mom? Oh, I remember a lot. I could write a book just stream of consciousness memories. Or should I say, I could write enough words to fill the pages of a book. I don't know how many people, other then my 2 brothers, could ever have read it. Lol. Mom: I remember how you make sandwiches mom, like green peppers & creamcheese sandwiches, or lettuce & mustard & cheddar cheese sandwiches, or peanut butter & honey & bannana sandwiches : how one valentine's day you made a red jelly sandwich on waffles & cut it out like a heart. It was gooey, but so good. Full of love. I even remember how you would get into making one type of sandwich so much I would tire of it, and couldn't eat it for awhile, heh... , but I always really loved your cooking; your spanish rice, your fancy salmon rice pastry, your overnight Christmas rolls, your chili, how you always had veggies out on the table, that was awesome, wow. I think now how much that little extra effort takes to make a few dishes not just one, but I noticed. And I remember.. how you put the bread or rolls in a basket with a fabric napkin lining folded over them to keep them warm... and how you would try healthy new foods heh - how Todd & Dad complained & teased you when you got into tofu & tried adding it to chili - but I liked it, secretly: I was just afraid I'd be taunted to; heh. I recall some cleaning things too : how you mopped from the corner of the room over, usually on your hands & knees: you said it worked better and if you were going to take the time to do it might as well do it well... , how you would warn me right before I walked in your dust pan pile and how this happened almost whenever you decided to sweep, how you would tell Pete & I & Todd & Dad to shut the doors constantly, but we seemed to always leave them open. How you would let me sleep/take my naps, in the middle of the floor or walkway, or grass lawn & wouldn't make me move. But how you or dad would carry me up to bed at night if I fell asleep on the couches, and how I would wake up wondering how I got into my comfy pjs all tucked in nicely, then I would just go back to sleep in a wink... How you would always know bird names, plant names, anytime I ask - how you smile & cock your head at the same time, how you laugh like a clear bell, so pretty. How you hike further & longer then anyone else could, how you love to climb mountains and always wanted to go to a new trail. How you were always so very sad when one of our pets died - my bird, Pete's mouse & mine - our dogs, our family pets.. even our fish, you seemed to be as sad as we were, and I still think you were. How you went grocery shopping down the isles in order, so if I got separated I could usually find you by back tracking a few isles... how you always kept a good stock of our favorite snacks & cereals, milk & orange juice. How we got to have those extra small glasses for the orange juice every morning with cereal or toast: how you sliced the cheese for toast so it wouldn't melt, but it was very filling & good. How you always encouraged but didn't force us into any decisions: well, it seemed that way, you were probably just much more clever then me. How you didn't pick up my room when I asked you to stop. How you let me have a stereo in my bedroom, and my bros too. Even one with floor speakers & a record player. How you patched my jeans with patches you cut out of fabrics to look like little chicks & hearts & stuff. How you let me fill the side greenhouse you guys built for growing tomatoes & veggies with flower petals all over every surface & floor spot, so I could dry them for whatever I was drying them for. How you & dad planted all those cool trees and bushes in our yards, so we then had "jungles" to explore (even if that wasn't why you planted them it was how we saw it: a jungle in our own yard) -- and how we could then wind through the plants in circles endlessly, and our worlds & stories to build, and places to go in our own yard where only the kids could go, and it was wonderful. How you let us walk down to the bay & along the shore on our own - how you let us find our world and become strong in it. How you let dad take me up in a helicopter with that pilot he knew, when I was just 14 cause I really wanted to go - and you did not faint when I told you how the helicopter driver flew over the train & raced alongside it & then flew down to the Oregon beach & raced along next to a truck driving on the beach, and how you & Pete came outside and waved up at us when we flew over our home. That was cool. And dad even let me take a few photos even though he wanted to take lots of photos, also. How mom, you sewed me that giant stuffed turtle when I was too small too remember & you let me even take it with me everywhere, even camping with us. How you would encourage dad to make pancakes when we went camping with as much butter as he liked, and how you always remembered to pack everything we needed for every trip, so we all got to just have a good time. How you stopped me from jumping in that river after Geronimo (our black lab) when he fell in the rapids, and how you said dogs could swim really really well, and he would be okay & I couldn't rescue him by jumping in, and he was ok, and just swam to shore a little downstream. You were sharp to think I would do something as stupid as try to jump in after him, and you were right there to reach out & stop me. *blush* How you took me to your painting & drawing classes in Seattle and Todd too, when we were just wee. I must've been 4 or 5 - and I remember drawing on big paper on big white tables in that studio, sitting on a metal stool, and I thought I was sooo cool to get to be there. How dad turned up Bob Dylan & Janis Joplin really loudly & got all happy and silly when he's had a few drinks and would sing along with all the old singers, and how you wouldn't complain about the loudness, and you'd just let us all play with dad & his silliness. And how, after you've had a few drinks on those occassions, you talk about the hardships in the world and how you'd always gotten so philosophical and concerned about all kinds of things, and you'd tell us about them, and that it's good to always try, even if we can only help a little - and how if everyone helps a little, it adds up to a whole lot. And how you would garden with us every spring & summer - flowers and a patch of vegetables & strawberries. How you would encourage us to wear straw sun hats, but wouldn't make us do it; and how you would let us play in the dirt all we wanted to. How you would let us pick out stuff to plant too and would show us how to get plants out of the pot, loosen the roots so they can grow better, and hold the plant so the branches weren't damaged - how you were even patient enough to let us plant seeds. How you & dad picked out tiles when you added the sunroom & greenhouse, that looked all speckled with yellows & browns, so you wouldn't have to worry about little kids having too much fun & tracking in dirt here & there - you cleaned, but if we left tracks it wasn't an emergency. Good thinking mom.

I love you mom, and you too dad. You guys did really well for us. Thanks for all the awesome road trips, backbacking, classes in music and dance, gardening, and annual traditions. They made me feel really special, and my bros & I often have talked about good times with the folks. You guys are awesome parents. Thanks.
"The World At Large"

Ice-age heat wave, can't complain.
If the world's at large, why should I remain?
Walked away to another plan.
Gonna find another place, maybe one I can stand.
I move on to another day,
to a whole new town with a whole new way.
Went to the porch to have a thought.
Got to the door and again, I couldn't stop.
You don't know where and you don't know when.
But you still got your words and you got your friends.
Walk along to another day.
Work a little harder, work another way.

Well uh-uh baby I ain't got no plan.
We'll float on maybe would you understand?
Gonna float on maybe would you understand?
Well float on maybe would you understand?

The days get shorter and the nights get cold.
I like the autumn but this place is getting old.
I pack up my belongings and I head for the coast.
It might not be a lot but I feel like I'm making the most.
The days get longer and the nights smell green.
I guess it's not surprising but it's spring and I should leave.

I like songs about drifters - books about the same.
They both seem to make me feel a little less insane.
Walked on off to another spot.
I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want.
Did I want love? Did I need to know?
Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?

The moths beat themselves to death against the lights.
Adding their breeze to the summer nights.
Outside, water like air was great.
I didn't know what I had that day.
Walk a little farther to another plan.
You said that you did, but you didn't understand.

I know that starting over is not what life's about.
But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
My thoughts were so loud.

- by modest mouse
Tags: family, kids

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