Wee Miss: "Mama? Tell me. What did you wear on your first day of school?"
"Did you ever have a picnic?"
"Would you eat soup with a big spoon or a little one?"
"Did you have a dog? A cat? A bird?"
"Who was your best friend?"
But Wee Miss's mama could never remember. As We Miss grew, she stopped asking. She knew there would be no stories, not the kind she wanted. Because she didn't care about family reunions or what the neighbors did but WHO this woman was as a girl. Who was her mama?
"Who was your best friend?"
But Wee Miss's mama could never remember. As We Miss grew, she stopped asking. She knew there would be no stories, not the kind she wanted. Because she didn't care about family reunions or what the neighbors did but WHO this woman was as a girl. Who was her mama?
That question, for the Matron, remains unanswered.
Perhaps this is why she is fast and loose with her offer of stories.
Matron: "Merrick, would you like to hear about the time I got lost walking home from first grade?"
Merrick: "Not weally."
Merrick: "Not weally."
Matron: "Scarlett, let me tell you about the WORST slumber party I ever went to when I was a kid!"
Scarlett: "Uh . . . that's okay, Mom. I'm reading."
Sigh.
Matron: "Boy, I remember how scared I was when I learned how to drive!"
HWCBN: "Seriously? You're telling me this?"
HWCBN: "Seriously? You're telling me this?"
Triple sigh, literally.
Now, the Matron is married to a wise man. An observant man. One day after attempting to download key childhood memories onto Merrick, she pouted about the futility of the effort to her husband.
Matron: "Why aren't they interested in my stories?"
John: "They don't need stories. They already know you."
John: "They don't need stories. They already know you."
If that's a spin on the situation, she'll take it.
8 comments:
A wise man, indeed. You'd best keep him!
Indeed a clever & wise man.
What a terrific thing for him to point out...that is a good man.
And you, too, for being the sort of mother that let's her children know her.
beautiful and so true. wise indeed.
And in the meantime, we get all the stories instead! That's a win-win, isn't it?
That husband of yours. He is GOOD.
When I was a little girl I loved my mother's stories of her life as a little girl, just normal events. My kids, however, are markedly less interested in my stellar young life. I will remember your wise husband's comment and take it for mine, also, if I may.
But don't forget all these stories--the grandchildren will be begging to hear them! Somehow the memories begin to fade when the stories don't have an audience.
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