On Mother’s Day, I took my mother a yellow bowl, an old yellow bowl; actually, it was her yellow bowl. Maybe I should explain.
When my sister Laurie died, I had the dreadful, painful task of going through her belongings and emptying out her apartment. Just thinking about it, even now, makes my heart hurt. It was good for me, though, because it reminded me of everything about her, things I wanted to be reminded about. It helped me say good-bye.I would go over there for a couple of hours every day and bag up some things to give to charities. I was very careful to select charities that would be able to use those specific items, more careful than I normally would have been, because she would have been that thoughtful.
I would take some things home to keep, some because they would be useful to me and some because they had meaning for me. The yellow bowl fit into the latter category. I hadn’t seen that bowl in a long time, but when I saw it, I knew I would keep it, at least until I passed it along to Wendy.
Hugging that bowl, I remembered sitting on the terrazzo floor of our Forest Hills home with Laurie and my mom as we helped her shell conch peas for dinner. I remembered watching my mom’s hand travel the circumference of that bowl, always in a clockwise motion, over and over, as she mixed potato salad, Railroad Hash, baked beans and chocolate icing. Holding that yellow bowl in my hands, I could almost smell the onions in those baked beans.
I took it home.
That was eight years ago. I’ve used that bowl many times since then, always feeling a twinge of guilt, wondering if my mom would have liked to have it back. She might not have even known my sister had it. You know how kids sometimes appropriate things they need when they move out.
Well, I found this great Mother’s Day card this year that said, “A good mother lets you lick the beaters; a great one turns off the mixer first.”
That card got me thinking about ‘licking the beaters.’ How many times had I or one of my siblings, or all of us at once shouted, “I get to lick the beaters”? I bought the card.
Licking the beaters took on epic proportions at our house when I was little. The card reminded me of that yellow bowl because Mom always used that bowl when she baked cakes and cookies. There were four of us, so two would get the beaters, one got to lick the bowl, and if we were all four home – which wasn’t too common – the fourth got to lick the spoon. Sounds like a bad deal for the fourth, but Mom always made sure the spoon was full of dough.
Today, I took that bowl back to my mom, not to give it back, but to tell her that I had it, that I cherish it, and why I cherish it. I offered to give it back, but, of course, she wanted me to have it. I knew it would go that way because I know my mom. That bowl had been the vessel that carried all the best foods I’ve ever eaten. Today, it carried my love.
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