Getting over to Mom and her services that morning; I was most concerned about having a chance to practice and play Moon River on the piano at Valhalla before I actually had to do it for an audience. It went well.
Friends and family were arriving when I went over to the podium to put my Nat King Cole Song Book down. Jim, Tom and I would be sharing our Mom memories from there with the attendees and mine were in my book. We'd pulled together memories that we'd all shared with Kat that were included in a special gift she'd made for Mom's 80th birthday.
Jim and Tom were sharing theirs. I was sharing mine and Kat's. None of ours were easy to speak or share, so I'd revised the typewritten copies I had, and had re-written them by hand. When I opened up Nat-my handwritten memories were no where to be found-just the scribbly-scratched memories I had tried to revise unsuccessfully on the typed version. I'd grabbed the wrong memories off the mantle at 411.
It was still early. The service didn't start until 2. Here came John to my rescue! He was with me when I discovered the wrong memories. After a chat with Kat, off John and I went back to 411.
It was a strange visit. John stayed in the car. I ran in the door and grabbed the revised memories off the mantle. I put those new memories in the Nat King Cole Song Book and ran out the door. Locking the door on the porch, the wind blew up. A memory flew out of the book on the porch. I scooped it up, and got the door locked. Putting that memory back in the book, another memory blew out on the grass on the way to the car. There I was chasing Mom memories at 411. I even said outloud: "Okay Mom, that's enough...messing with me again."
I got in the car with John. We giggled about me chasing memories and agreed...
...Mom was everywhere.
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