Lately I've been having a lot of dreams about my Mamaw. I'm not sure why these memories are invading my dreams, but they are there (at least a little snippet) each night. My mother, brother and I lived with my Mamaw for about 3 1/2 years after my parents divorced and even when we moved into our own house we spent a great deal of time at my Mamaw's. She is a woman I've always looked up to, aspired to be like, and who helped shape my childhood. These are my dreams at night:
I dream of sitting on the stepstool in the kitchen watching her make homemade biscuits and leaving a bit of dough out for the "rat" to eat. I loved that salty sweet dough.
Laying on her bed, the cool clean sheets, and looking at her curtains covered in red roses.
I dream of warm baths with a bar of Ivory soap.
Sitting on the porch swing drinking sweet tea or snapping beans.
I dream of her feeding me "soaky bread" which is toast dipped in coffee (I personally attribute my love of coffee to the fact that she started me on it when I was only 3!)
My Mamaw sitting in her chair crocheting a beautiful doilie.
I dream of days when it stormed and we had to unplug everything and go lay on the bed. "Be still and quiet" she would say.
The multitude of switches that woman had hid around the house...in her chair, on top of the fridge, they were always within her reach.
I dream of her giving me a dustrag and a can of Pledge and setting me to work dusting/polishing the furniture.
Watching HeeHaw...enough said.
I dream of her sweeping the sidewalk, vacuuming every day, hanging sheets on the line, ironing baskets of clothes. This woman could clean.
Most of all I dream of her and her house. The way she smelled and the way she looked. I dream of the way I knew her house, how no other place has ever felt more like home. I don't know why I'm dreaming of these things, but I'm sure glad I remember them.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
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