Swirls, Eddies and the Mudflats of Memory

Restored lost archive. Originally posted July 31, 2007.

The flat-edged stainless steel of my kitchen knife moved over the slice of whole wheat bread, making shiny swirls of creamy peanut butter.

I was time traveling, a child in my mother's kitchen before the termites got into her head. Give her a bowl of butter cream frosting and a cake and she could create a masterpiece, layer by layer, her own flat-edged knife crafting smooth architectural sides, swirls and curlicues. She wielded it like an artist's brush.

Buck called out to me, "Want some milk with that peanut butter sandwich?"

Waked up. Awake. The sandwich tastes dry in my mouth. I can't drink enough milk to choke it down.

I do not bake cakes.

Current note (from May 17, 2010): I scanned the pre-digital era photos below into my hard drive recently. They were taken around 1987, a few years before Mother died. They are painful for me to look at, not only because of her condition: Alzheimer's and other health problems; but because I was totally wrapped up in my own life and did not participate in her care as I should have, or made her life more comfortable, as I could have. No excuses. Reality bites. This is for the record.



4 thoughts on “Swirls, Eddies and the Mudflats of Memory

  1. Reality does bite, doesn’t it? I’m learning that now after we buried my grandma last year. All those years focused on proving that I could be an independent professional and make my own way in the world, confident that the permanent fixtures in my life would always be there. Then, poof, they disappeared while I wasn’t looking.


  2. what to say.
    I think you were suppose to be doing what ever you were.
    I think of it now sometimes, how stung I am when my children don’t meet my preconceived notions of care. And the feeling is so brief. I love them more than my own issues. That’s the way it just is . I want them to feel free while they carve their paths . So so difficult. My husband loves his parents deeply. Does he take them for granted? Yes.


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