Ask not
I'm reading Hemingway's 'For Whom The Bell Tolls' (ref), and while I was touring over the last weekend, I had opportunity to get stuck in during the drive home from Napier. I was riveted to the gruesome and harrowing account of the day the revolution came to the small village of Pablo and Pilar.
I discussed it with Dad, who lent me the book a few weeks ago. He seems to know a lot about the Spanish civil war, whereas I know barely anything, aside from vague recollections of stories told to me by Catalonian Abraham, one day in Copenhagen.
"This Sunday will be difficult for you," Dad said.
"Sunday? What's happening on Sunday?"
"It's Mother's Day."
"Oh."
Usually I ignore the hype. But then it occurred to me, wouldn't it be a fitting time to remember the wonderful things about my mother? Better than remembering on the anniversary of her death, perhaps. I thought about it as I went to get the mail this morning, and in that context I remember Mum when tree roots warp the pavement, and when low-hanging trees encroach over fences.
I discussed it with Dad, who lent me the book a few weeks ago. He seems to know a lot about the Spanish civil war, whereas I know barely anything, aside from vague recollections of stories told to me by Catalonian Abraham, one day in Copenhagen.
"This Sunday will be difficult for you," Dad said.
"Sunday? What's happening on Sunday?"
"It's Mother's Day."
"Oh."
Usually I ignore the hype. But then it occurred to me, wouldn't it be a fitting time to remember the wonderful things about my mother? Better than remembering on the anniversary of her death, perhaps. I thought about it as I went to get the mail this morning, and in that context I remember Mum when tree roots warp the pavement, and when low-hanging trees encroach over fences.
posted by Jessie at 10:42
3 comments
3 Comments:
.. those may not sound like wonderful things, they are meaningful to me though!
the fact is that those words are really nice ... every day I remmember my grandma (with who I shared so many hours when I was a runny-nosed boy) when, while I speak with people, I use those typicals granmda expressions, and thet I ratify it to my speaker: "That's what my grandma said" ... so much reason, so love.
my grandma's father was executed in road edge by republicans ... no sense.... and today paradoxically I defense the republican flag. Civil war was so sad.
pd: I have a mail pending about your trip. Soon. :)
I understand why you think of Mum when you encounter these things Jess. A regression to childhood maybe, when you needed to be Mum's eyes... a very sweet way of remembering her.
I too feel a bit lost around Mothers Day, although being a mum myself I can focus on me!
x
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