Next week is Christmas and for the first time in many years I will be going home. I have mixed feelings about it. The kids and I will be spending the holiday with my niece and her husband. I am very excited about that. What I am not looking forward to are the other memories that it will bring up. My mother lived down south and died New Years Eve 1993, and I lost her parents within 2 years of losing her. With their deaths, my family was basically torn apart. I haven't been to their graves since my grandmother died. I probably won't this time either.
My mother's birthday would have been this Thursday. She would have been 67. I look at other people that come through my life that are that age, and I try to imagine what she would have looked like. I look in the mirror and stand on my tippy toes, and I pretty much see her. She towered over me by about 5 inches, and she was much more classy than I am. Her hair was always done, make-up always perfect, and clothes always put together. I am the anti-"her" in that aspect. I've always lived on the fringe, been a bit different, never a conformist. We bumped heads in that aspect. Me with my t-shirt and jeans. She in her twin-sets and dress pants. Me with my scrubbed face, shorn hair, and sneakers. She with her make-up, hot rolled hair, and pumps. Even with our differences we loved each other.
If I live to be 67, I suppose I will know what she looks like. Everyone that sees me that HASN'T seen me in years bursts into tears telling me how much I look like her. (In miniature) So, I will be going home so to speak. It should prove to be interesting.