 |
| Backside reads in her script: October 1972 Claudia's Birthday Claudia & Mommy |
There are certain things I can remember with almost no effort. For instance, I remember when, on multiple occasions, my mother would come home with a bag (or bags) filled with clothes from Marshalls®. Those red stickers made me giddy. The more clearance items my mom saw that she thought I might like, the bigger the bag. "You don't have to keep anything you don't like," she'd say. She had such great taste.
Most of my memories are non-specific. I remember the kind of music that always played in the background when she was in the room. She instinctively connected with music and blended it into our life. Big band and jazz standards set the perfect mood for impromptu dance lessons in the kitchen, in between chopping one thing or another.
I remember the two of us getting take-out pizza and practically inhaling a large between us.
And whenever one of life's barbs would cause me pain, I remember the way she held me. She held me tightly and completely, whether I was two or twelve. And despite my predictably brazen show of tears, her impressive calm restored me, every single time.
