Missing Momma

She would have been 85 today.
She died in 1972...just 46 years old.
It takes my breath away when I think that I am now ten whole years older than she was, when she died.
I was seventeen, and WAY too full of myself...and thought my world had come to an end.
My sister and I left everything we'd ever known as "normal" and headed out for places that neither of us wanted to be.
I'm not sure we "ever" got used to it either.
Oh, we adjusted, and went on...made lives for ourselves, but there hasn't been one day in all of these 39 years, that Momma's absence has not been felt.
She never saw either one of us graduate, get married, have children...never knew the sweet smell of those newborn babies, or cuddled them close to her breast.
Never did a birthday party or a first Christmas, or watched with pride, as they hit a home run or scored a touchdown...
Never saw them graduate and start having her GREAT grandchildren.
I wish I had a nickel for every time I've said, "I wish I knew how Momma did"....(whatever)
We couldn't call her and say "Hey Momma, How do I make this baby stop crying....or, how do you make "your" gumbo...or what goes in Hungarian Gouloush ? (Took YEARS to finally figure THAT one out)
We could never go "home to Momma" when we fought with our spouse, or when we divorced them, or when we just REALLY needed to get away from them, before we killed them...no, we had to go elsewhere...most times to each other...
I mean, don't get me wrong... Daddies have their place too, but for some things, only a Momma will do !
I sat on the porch this morning, as the sun came up, and thought about all the things I've missed with her...and, knowing it just makes me miss her more...
My heart breaks when someone loses their parent, because I know that, no matter what age we are when it happens, it creates a void that lasts forever.
Anyway, these are my thoughts today, and later I will raise a glass in Momma's honor, and send birthday greetings toward the stars...
Miss you Momma....Happy Birthday...

Here it is - in black and white

When I die, I want someone to promise me, that you will find a canary yellow 1967 Chev Malibu (with black interior) and start at one end of Beaver Dam Road,and get that car up to about 75 mph (like I used to do) and then, just let my ashes fly.
I ran that road again yesterday, for the 999th time, and it was as fabulous as the very first time. A Hyundai doesn't get it like the Malibu did, even though the road is paved now, but I gave it my best. With the windows down and the smell of Mississippi farmland blowing in my face, it came to me, that that was as close to heaven as I could get ALIVE...
The freedom of being sixteen, having no responsibility, and just looking for joy, hit me in the face as I took each curve, making me grin and holler, just as big and loud as it ever did and reminded me that, sometimes you have to take a little risk to find joy, but odds are, you'll appreciate all that much more when the risk pays off...
So, whoever ends up taking care of the business of getting me settled...THIS is how I want it done.
Wouldn't hurt my feelings at all, either, if you slide in a Mississippi Fred McDowell CD, and turn the volume up wide open too...