FRIDAY. FRIDAY
ON THE EVE OF MY MOTHERS BIRTHDAY
My Mother taught me how to color inside the lines. I didn’t have a Daddy then, she was My Everything. I called her ‘Mother Dear’ she taught me to call her that. I didn’t know her name was ‘Mary Estelle!!!’ until the day Grandma Helen called her from across the Wilson North Carolina fields; Mary was on the side porch blessing something.
Mary Estelle Sanders fell in love with a dashing, dark skinned, Lancaster boy, brother to one of her high school girl friends. Lancaster took her kissing in pine woods or on a farm hayloft, I was the love child result. Lancaster joined the Air Force USA instead of marrying Mother, this was 1951. Good girls didn’t let themselves get in the family way before marriage back then, but there I was. I remember people looking into my baby carriage, their eyes a mixture of pity and fascination about my Scarlet Letter Mother; Mommy said I was far too young to remember that, but I do.
I remember our 1954 Exodus to New York City, people scurrying everywhere, like ants in Grand Central Station. I’d never seen so many people in one place in my life. Grandma gave us a Brooklyn contact, an old lady who took my Mother’s money to look after me while she worked. This old lady slept the whole day. I couldn’t wake her. The door handle was taller than me and I couldn’t wake the old lady. My pants were poopy stink when Mommy came home. I didn’t know the right words to tell her why I was poopy stink; I remember the frustration; maybe that’s why words have always been so important to me.
I miss you Mommy. I remember being so rude, disrespectful to you that day when I was sick. You drove me against my will from Rocky Mount to Raleigh to see my Cousin. I gave you hell, blamed you for Daddy leaving us, said to you ‘That’s why you ain’t got no husband! Always makin’ people do what they don’t want to do!!!’ You never said a word. I had to apologise, profusely, on the way back home. I had a great time. It was exactly the medicine I needed.
It was a Blessing I wasn’t at your bedside when Craigie said ‘You’re being raptured Ma. It’s ok for you to go.’ You did. I had just arrived back in London to your Grandkids when Ginny called me. I’d left my show to be with you at the hospice the week before, Nurses said you were getting better. I thought you’d be going home. That’s what I told Manny and Gayle. The last thing I said to you was ‘We’ll see each other again as I kissed both your hands; the day before I’d washed and oiled your St. Mary’s feet. I had to leave London again the next week for your Memorial Service, hard to write funeral. The service is a blur. I remember trying to persuade crying Dana to get into the limo, she’d decided she wasn’t going, me and Lisa eventually got her into the car and to the church.
I can’t believe you’re not in the flesh. I want to hear your voice. You’d love your Great Grandchildren, they’d love you. I’m grateful you met your Grand Daughters, they’ve grown into Magnificent humans. I feel your presence, your support. I love you Ma.
On The Eve of My Mother’s Birthday, I proclaim Mary Estelle a Goddess. I am her First Born Blood, I have the right to deify Her. Her energy resides within me and in outer realms I’m still learning to access.
Happy Birthday Mommy. Love Always. Ayries.