I have a vivid, indelible memory of watching my mother painting this still life of her perfume bottles.
I can still see the canvas resting on the easel and Mommy working the palette knife thickly with cobalt blue and white oil paints.
Even as a mature woman it is impossible for me to give up the term of endearment "Mommy." When I first came to the States, it used to shock me to hear
some people address their mothers "Mother." It seemed so impersonal, detached, unloving, unpleasant and rude. I guess it all depends on the emotions and memories you attach with your mother. I no longer have those judgments. I now feel a sense of amusement about it.
I don't remember how old I was but young enough, I guess, for this snapshot in time to leave a lingering good feel. It feels like love, a feeling that blossoms into joy, and gives me a sense of comfort, home, belonging, security, wonder, awe, and peace. Such lasting influence! Cobalt blue bottles always get me.
Blue and white is the backdrop of my childhood. I remember window shopping one day, many years after leaving home, and seeing our family china displayed in the window of a home decor store. I burst out in tears. It was a feeling of pure nostalgia.
I remember restful Sunday afternoons with Mommy pouring thick Spanish chocolate into demitasse cups for us to enjoy some quiet time together. It was a graceful and charmed life being under my parents’ care. In the busy-ness of daily living and the challenges of growing up and getting older, I hold fast to my “anchor” memories, memories that keep me securely tethered to home, family and love.
Hold fast to your anchor memories,memories that tether you
To the Truth of
Home, Family andLove.