One More...

                    

    Today is the anniversary of the day I lost my mom, aka Nana, Grandma Ginny and Maw-Maw.

When I was a little girl seven years old, Mom took me to Ben Franklin Dime Store. The aromas of freshly popped pop corn and chocolate candies tempted my taste buds. I walked over to peer into the glass candy counter with its glass dividers and multitude of selections which were sold by the pound. We could seldom afford even a quarter pound of the chocolates or Brach's Bridge mix. I gazed wistfully at the confections. I inhaled the delightful aromas. I salivated imaging how the gooey caramel-filled chocolates would tingle my tongue. I spied Mom's favorite, peanut clusters and Dad's favorites, sugar coated gummy orange slices and green spearmint leaves. I made my way around the square island. I was shocked when I spied a bin of  non-pareils as big around as clip-on earrings. I stared in disbelief at the gigantic size Snow Caps and jabbered to myself about them. Then I looked up into a mannequin's face. I said, "Hi" and excitedly laughed. The mannequin returned my greeting, "Hi."

Embarrassed, I bent down so as not to be seen, and I hovered near the wooden base of the candy counter. I scanned the immediate vicinity for my mom, but she was nowhere in sight. Too embarrassed to stand up and look at the candy counter salesgirl, I reached for a small shiny object on the floor and sliced my finger wide open on a piece of broken glass.

I wailed, not from the pain of my cut finger, but from the fear of losing my mom. She had been nearby all along. She rushed to see what was wrong. I clung to her skirt. I preferred her scolding to having to look into the eyes of that "live mannequin."

Losing my mom was one of the most heart pounding, breath taking, scariest feelings I'd ever experienced. My throat constricted. When Mom grabbed my hand, relief coursed through me.
                                                                        ~~~
Fast forward fifty years. Mom and I had been zipping in and out of the car all morning going to yard sales on a hot summer day. Mom liked to linger; I preferred to scan the items, make a purchase and/or move on to the next sale. It wasn't unusual for me to wander off, especially when there were several sales in the same area. By 12:30 we were tired and agreed we'd had enough for one day. She asked me to take her to the grocery store before taking her home. As I was heading there, I noticed a sign for a block sale ahead on a cul-de-sac street with eight houses. 

I was so excited by this wonderful end to our yard sale day. I couldn't wait to get out of the car for this last hurrah. Most of the tables and displays were picked over that late in the day. I rushed from one sale to the other. After I made several purchases, I turned around to show Mom my treasures. I looked down the block. Up the block. I hightailed it, and back tracked around the arc of a street to the first house. My throat felt tight, I was on the verge of panic. Where could she have gone? I revisited every yard and peered into every garage. My heart pounded wildly. I felt like that little seven year old girl again who had lost her mommy. Alone, lost, afraid...for her well being this time, not mine.
I asked each homeowner, "Have you seen my mom? I seem to have lost her. Little, elderly, white haired woman wearing a white visor cap? She was just with me."

Nobody had seen her. The sellers began to look at me strangely when I babbled, "We've been together all day going from one sale to the next. I can't imagine how I lost her.  Where could she be? Maybe she asked someone to use their bathroom?" Before long I was talking more to myself as I wandered up and down the street two more times past the eight homes. When I got to the last house, I glimpsed the bank building across the main street.

Embarrassed, my throat constricted, my heart thumped like a jack hammer and I could not meet the eyes of those yard sale proprietors. I rushed to my car, inserted the key and drove across the street to the bank, hung a left and pulled up in front of the brand new Save-A-Lot grocery store.

"I thought you said you'd be right back!" Mom said accusingly as she slid into the passenger seat with her groceries.

"I thought you were still with me! I was afraid I'd lost you. I've been searching for you for fifteen minutes. I couldn't figure out where you were, and those women must have thought I was nuts looking for someone who was never even with me in the first place. I even told those women you got out of the car with me. I asked if they remembered seeing you."

I shook my head and chuckled, "I completely forgot I dropped you off at this store! I was thinking we were going to our regular store, Shop and Save, after these last sales."

By the time I drove her to her apartment, we were laughing so hard we were both crying.

Today the loss is especially deep. It has been exactly seven years since Mom died. My throat feels tight. All day I will blink back tears.

I feel like that little girl again.

I feel like that middle aged woman who thought she'd lost her mom at the yard sales.

I feel like the old woman I am. I wish I could have my mom back for one more day, for one more laugh, one more hug, one more...