Monday, July 25, 2011

Momma's House

   When I go home to my Momma's house, I enter a time warp. As soon as I open the door, I expect to be greeted by the lemony scent of beeswax furniture polish, eucalyptus, and something else that I have never quite been able to define or replicate. It is the smell of home. Momma will be sitting in her chair, and I will have my corner of the sofa. She will be knitting yet another lap robe or shawl for the Prayer Shawl Ministry, and I will have a book or two or three that I have packed in my suitcase ready to pick up when there is a lull in the conversation. But before we come to that companionable place of quiet, we will laugh, look at pictures, and share countless stories. Even though I talk to her nearly every day on the phone, between us, there is always much to be said.
    The days in Momma's house are predictable and have a well-defined cadence that is comforting to me. Once I arrive, I find that I am able to shed the tyranny of my list of "must-do's." While my own house cries out to me with its uncompleted projects and endless cycle of much needed tasks, her home has become a haven for me, a sanctuary of sorts. The predictability and unchanging rhythm of her days bring peace and succor to my heart.
   My world four hundred miles away might be tilting crazily, but at Momma's things just don't seem to change that much. It is comforting as well, that when it comes time for bed, I will climb into the same bed in the same room under the same canopy and hand made coverlet that I have been sleeping under for the past thirty years. When I wake up, I will happily find the same photographs sitting in the exact same position on the dresser, and as my eye wanders up the wall, I will think for the thousandth time how much love and effort must have gone into the magnificent needlepoint tapestry hanging over the dresser that my Momma created so many years ago.
   If I close my eyes, it is not so hard to pretend that time has stood still. I can linger for a moment in the sounds, smells, comforts and sense of well-being that pervade Momma's house. I can dream and I can rest. Thank you, dear Momma, for your unchanging love and for the respite of your home.

1 comment :

  1. thanks for sharing Kathy...I love your writing and enjoy your blog so much! Sweet to hear about your our Moms so much!


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