Three Little Notes And Some Lowridin’

Someday when they’re older then breast-height, they will have shot so high and flown so far . . . I am sure they’ll go right past where the stars are born and be away from the under-shadow of my mother-wings and I will sit in this empty nest with my forlorn arms and remember the morning when I sat quietly in the living room with my good-morning-hands wrapped in reverence around the habitual-tea-drink, a Buechner book open on my blanketed lap while they were hush-hush busy in the kitchen and whispering from oldest-ear to youngest-ear. I will remember how I thought that I should check on them because they were too quiet and too quiet means too much trouble, but somehow I knew to let be.

Then they came forth like a barbarian-parade, heavy on their feet and heavy with the excitement-noise and their teeth-baring-smiles reach all the way to crinkle at eye-corners and oh, those eyes? They shine like twinkle-shot-jewels and their arms reach right towards manhood when they stretch them out to me, their open hands bearing courtly envelopes with homemade wax seals.

“We made these for you Mama . . .” and I just think there are times when they say the Mama-word and it comes out sounding like mystery and fairytale, like a harmony the un-seen spirits must sing and there was the Supernatural injecting His magic into the vein of this ordinary moment with this most ordinary-heard-word, the one that bounces off my eardrum at least a hundred times a day. And how often does it sound so old . . . ? But, this time I listen to them say “Mama” and I think it was just different sounding enough to be understood as an invitation. An invitation to pay attention and remember the exact lilt of the “m” and the “a” as it rolled from their mouths. I had this sensation that Someone wanted this memory to be harbored-to-keep for a noise-less, boy-less, rainy day down the road.

And their three little notes with the messy wax seals? I’ll grip them strong and tuck them safe and bring them out with the Mama-word-memory when my future-heart longs to go back to a smaller-child time.

Gabe: “Dear Mama, I love you so much and I am very thankful to have you in my life. You are a great person to all of us. Thank-you for giving us your time to give us a great education! You are the greatest mom 3 crazy boys could ever have. You are very loving, very kind, very quick to apologize, very forgiving and many more. Love, Gabe”

Seth: “Dear Mama, I love you so much I can hardley brethe. I am so thankful to have such a careing Mama who deal’s with three kid’s every week. Love, Seth”

Jude: “Dear Mama, I am so happy you are my mom. You are the best mom ever. I am so happy you can be in this family.”

Oh my heart.


Later that same day . . . 

When Mama is away, Papa and the boys have “guy time” and who knows what they’ll turn out doing, but on this particular evening they raided my closet with their little-grubby-Viking-fingers and HANG ON A SECOND!!! IS THAT MY WHITE SCARF?!?!?!

We live in Da Hood and lowridin’ is a way of life here and the boys dress themselves up in their own hilarity and parade around the house in Papa’s “teenage shoes” and the undies showing {the way they see the neighbor kids doin’} and an ongoing litany of “YEAH, WUS UP, UH-HUH, YEAH” rapping from their white-boy lips. And they’re giggling like school-girls.

Papa-Husband sends me these photos in txt and I smile big for all the flavors of this family and how the taste changes from morning to night, from Mama to Papa. And these memories that didn’t cost us a thing? Priceless.

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