Recently, I wrote about trying to be creative about covering up that nasty (but necessary) printer that impeded my path to artistic expression around the Chatette.
I had a couple of ideas. I tried lace, but the white was too stark with the dark furniture.
Then, I remembered the quilted wall hanging that Mom had made for me after our 1996 Paris trip together.
While it did survive the fire, it was quite smoky and needed to be bleached more than once.
It's not perfect, but it is the sentimental value that means more. And, it was a perfect cover for the printer.
Fortunately, I have photos of it in all of its glory and close ups of the collages that Mom had printed on material and added.
In one corner Mom had written "Treasured Moments" and in the other a little note of love and thanks-"Love, Mom!"
Those sweet notes didn't survive quite as well as the collages did.
They are only ghosts of their former selves, but I remember.
I seem to live with ghosts around here every day!
Now, as I work in the kitchen, water the window boxes or rearrange my vases of flowers; Mom is right there with all those memories of our week together in Paris.
Those memories rise and become more. Feeling Mom so close every day is a treat!
After finally finishing up the last bits of grass that needed to be cut on this side of the tracks yesterday, I found myself focused on flowers once more. First, I so enjoyed how that beautiful flowering shrub draped lacy sweetness over Sammie Cat's spot. I always have a little chat with her when I begin and when I finish.
It always feels good to finish, even though I know I still have to head over to the barn.
I will, but in the meantime; I enjoyed the beauty everywhere close to me inside and out.
The roses continue to be gorgeous.
The remaining geraniums got potted.
And, the barn, lavoir and chateau continue to be a backdrop that shows the roses off beautifully.
With the afternoon light at full force on the side and behind the Chatette, those gorgeous reflections of color snuck inside once more.
When I checked in on FB this morning, I wasn't sure if I was at the Mahogany Oaks Bar (MOB) with John and Mike, or if John and Mike were here at the studio apartment with me in Cajarc. No matter. The wonderful photo above brought us together no matter where we are in the world.
When I went to save the photo in my downloads folder it did something else. Our Sammie Cat was everywhere in just the section where I saved. She has been beginning her visits.
Yesterday it was a tiny smiling cat on the paper towels I bought at the Casino, and some children out my window who were bringing a new kitten home all wrapped up from the cold.
Now...many many photos of our Sam all in one place.
Most of you know this, but John and Mike have been taking care of the "Samster" (as I sometimes call her) whenever I traveled.
She loved them so much in her own Sammie way.
But, they loved her more.
We always laughed because Mike was the one to take care of her, but she fell in love with John. I have the photos to prove it right here!
So today, an homage to Sam and her wonderful, loving, giving, selfless Uncles...John and Mike who loved her (and me) more.
...an opportunity to wallow in it senselessly! It is difficult to describe the events of the last few days without overwhelming myself and probably you too. Most of you know about the fire at the Chatette and Sammie Cat's crossing over to the other side. Most of you also know that this is NOT my first disaster, since I came here to Cadrieu and the Chatette after Hurricane Katrina.
I just keep moving on and doing what needs to be done here.
Without Sam, my "we" is severely reduced. Dali's ashes have been disbursed in the living room. Monsieur Winkelmann will need some work. One of my Mary's lost her head and the other Mary and St. Therese of Lisieux are now black. Actually, everything is black everywhere and in the living room all gone.
But mostly, I'm grateful I'm here. I'm grateful my friend who was with me is okay. I'm grateful for the 15 years I had with my Sammie Cat and how big of a part she became in my life after I'd said "no more cats!"
I am grateful for great assurance (insurance), amazing friends, a village who is loving me and supporting me, and such depth of care and concern for me "en francais" that it brings tears to my eyes to even try to describe it. EVERYONE is a superhero and I have the A-Team.
They say it takes a village...I have one literally and figuratively. Lucky girl!
Coming back in to my life here earlier this summer, I sat in my beautiful living room in my big comfortable chair that EVERYONE loves and wants to be the one to sit there.
I looked at: the atrium; the play of the light; bathed in the silence; and, patted Sam's head and rubbed her chin as she sat on the arm of the chair. I actually said outloud: "This is all I need. It is just enough for me." Nothing is left in there now. Then this week, I sat on the front steps with Monsieur Winkelmann behind me while I looked at my loving Lot and said: "Even in all of this, I am happy. This is enough!"
And so, I just keep going. I do what I need to do. I wallow in the gratefulness and glory in my wealth of spirit and love in my life...and I know that I am the richest woman in the world. Whatever is up ahead for me will be different, but as I've said before-sometimes the surprises are better than anything I could have planned and I just need to trust the universe!
Every trip to St. Louis includes a day of Retail Therapy and Pretzels at Auntie Anne's with Kat at the Galleria. This last trip was no different, but we did find lots of changes and feelings of disappointment with most of what the stores had on offer.
This window at the children's clothing store didn't disappoint me...the shot above is from Christmas 2014-I had to take a shot of this year's window too-2 years later.
I love children's clothes and this place does it up right...no disappointment here. But, I confess...I love those little sparkly, bowed, fur collared numbers best! Happy Saturday!
We have always been a family of snail mail and cards! This week, I discovered this fun antique postcard in my mailbox on Columbus Street from my brother Jim. We are also a creative, meaningful, and mushy bunch.
I loved the card itself, but when I looked a little closer Jim had given each of the family members on the card initials that matched all of us in the family. Now if there would have been a spot for Nannie, it would have been complete.
For Jim's message just look above at the heading of this post...
The moment I walked into the Chatette, I was struck by how much of Mom is everywhere here. I have: her cross-stitches and needle points hanging in and around the kitchen; her dolls and the dolls she'd given me ever since I was a little girl; her Hummels; her handkerchief quilt; and of course, Monsieur Winkelmann screamed at me to bring out my Moon River (and many others) sheet music that I had tucked away in the folder in my bag with the other very important stuff. I chuckled because in many ways, having Mom's stuff is having Mom.
Mom's departure has been a strange one for me. I loved that hospice gave us the chance to go on her final journey with her as far as we could. I still smile when I remember her telling us that her suitcase was packed and everyone was there. The last time I was alone with Mom she whispered in my ear: "I wish I could have done more for you." On other days, we might have talked about this together at length. On this day, I simply said:
"Oh Mom, you made me the woman I am today."
Ours, was not an easy relationship. I miss my Mom. There are of course those times when I want to call her and tell her something just to hear her voice. Now, I just tell her. I've been playing Moon River and Somewhere Over the Rainbow here for her, along with a few Nat King Cole tunes, most mornings. I look at the moon and the Perseids and she is beside me saying: "Oh, look at the moon. Is that a shooting star?"
I've wondered if there was something wrong with me? My grief has been very different than my siblings. Shouldn't I be sadder? Shouldn't I miss her more? What I've always known (and others will tell you) is that we are very much alike. There were times I had to say to her: "Mom, I'm not you." I carry her with me always in ways that make me feel she isn't really gone. Mom really is everywhere that I am.
Even though she's never been to the Chatette in the flesh, she's been here every step of the almost 15 years of our "we" here and continues to be.
We were raised to always believe that we were just one big happy family. That in many ways, we were all alike. We weren't and we aren't. I've come to realize that each of the four of us had very different relationships with Mom, Dad, Mom and Dad as a couple, and each other. There is freedom, knowledge, and peace in that aha!
I remembered a line in Richard Bach's Illusions that struck me the first time I read it. It rings even truer with me today:
"Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof."-p.84
We are family. We love each other. We are not the same. We are not always going to get along. But, we've learned to celebrate our differences, and still love each other in the process.
WIth Father's Day being this Sunday, I went to work making one of my window cards for Dad for his Father's Day homage. This is the first Father's Day we're celebrating without Mom. I'm still observing how all of our relationships have changed since Mom passed in February.
I looked through some photos and narrowed it down to the three that you see above. Then, I searched for old meaningful photos to put behind those windows and doors.
Any bets on which card and which photos I chose?
I wanted one of me, one of Dad, and one of the two of us together. I love my passport photo from when I was a baby. I had one of Dad standing in front of his childhood home on Arabella Street. And then of course, my all time favorite of the two of us on the redwood bench in the back yard on Kappel Drive. You can see, it's no secret that I am and have always been a "Daddy's Girl."
As far as the card was concerned, craving that dancing diamonds view from one of my windows on the Lot won out over the other two.
I cut and hole punched each of the three window spots. Got the photos positioned and glued under their window, and then added on the special colorful ribbon to each hole. Et, voila-pull a ribbon...
The last time I played Moon River for Mom had been at her wake at Valhalla. Most of my Moon River renditions of recent years, had been played for Mom and Dad on Monsieur Winkelmann over the telephone from Cadrieu.
Once my childhood piano (now christened "Violette") arrived on Columbus Street, I managed to play one more rendition of Moon River for Mom and Dad over the phone with her before the Christmas holidays.
The one time I played Moon River on Columbus Street since, I expected to be sad. I expected to shed a few tears. What I didn't expect was remembering every time I'd ever played Moon River for Mom in all these years. The choke came when my memories returned to Monsieur Winkelmann and the Chatette.
Next time I call to play Moon River across the 5000 miles and an ocean between us, Mom won't be with us on the other end of that telephone line.
But you know, I bet she'll be sitting right there on those stone porch steps watching: the buddleia blooming; the Lot River roll by; and, be able to hear Dad and I chatting away after I play Moon River from my very own Moon River. She'll turn around and say: "Oh, that's so beautiful sug." And I'll know: it is now "our" very own Moon River.
