A Box Of Beads

Sunday, Aug. 03, 2003 - 11:21 a.m.

Yesterday afternoon, I was going through the boxes of possessions I have finally acquired that once belonged to my mother.

I looked through my baby book, and found out that, including ten office visits at seven dollars apiece, my total bill from start to finish was just a little over three hundred and fifty dollars.

I looked through the journal she kept for the first few years of my life, and found a list of the words I could speak by the time I was one and a half.

But most amazingly, I also found a box that was infinitely more significant -- it was nothing more than a box full of her beads, when she went through her Bead Phase. But there was something unexpected in one of the boxes. It had been stored in a banker's box, and it snapped closed, making it airtight.

I opened the box to see what was in it, because it made a wonderful sound when I picked it up. And when I opened it... I could smell my mother.

I could smell the coffee she drank, her cigarettes, the perfume she wore, and even the hand lotion she used.

It was all there in one perfect moment, captured in that very special little box.

I shut the box quickly. And then I had to go lay down and cry for awhile.

It was the first cry I've had about her since her death.

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I was in IMs later that night with Paul and Jamie, as usual.

I told Paul about what had happened, and mused that I hadn't seen Mom's perfume in a retail store in quite some time, and was worried that it had been discontinued. Paul asked me the name -- White Shoulders -- and in about three minutes, he found a link to a discount perfumery that has it for sale.

For the second time that day, I burst into loud tears for my mother. The floodgates are opened now, so I wouldn't be surprised if this keeps happening.

I have come to find that epiphanies take many forms. Mine has been in the form of a simple box of beads. A representation of things that didn't get finished, but should have.

---

Today's goal: Make a place for Mom's stuff in the Closet of Doom.

Hmmm. It's my stuff now. My stuff.

Well. I feel the waterworks coming on again, so I'll get going. Be back tomorrow.

Be good to one another.

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