nurture | mother’s day She called on Mother’s Day and wanted to know what I did when I opened the box. I told her I laughed and then cried because I missed her so much. “I did the same thing when I wrapped it,” she said. “At first, I laughed because I could imagine the expression on your face when you opened the box. Before I realized it, my tears flowed too. Take good care of it, Mom.” I did take good care of it because I took it with me when her dad and I visited her family the next year. Before we left to come back to North Carolina, I hid it under a housecoat that hung in the back of her closet. She discovered it months later while collecting items for a rummage sale but didn’t mention it to me. She did tell me about the sale but didn’t bother to mention, “that thing.” Of course, she tucked it in with my next birthday gift. On my next visit to her house, she discovered it under her pillow with a note that read, “Karen, sleep on it, honey.” Months later, it came back to me in the mail. This time she had cut it off short and included a sweatband and assorted exercise garb with a note that suggested I shape up and enjoy life to the fullest. I kept “that thing” for over a year and forgot about it until I was wrapping Christmas gifts for Karen and her boys. She called before Christmas and I told her I had mailed them a box. “Do I have a special gift coming this year? “ she asked. “What do you mean?” I asked, pretending I had forgotten I about the jumpsuit. “Oh, nothing,” she said, changing the subject. I talked to our grandsons and told them I had wrapped “that thing” in a box with a card that read, “To Mom from Brad and Bryan. Christmas 1991.” They knew about our fun and gave their mom the gift to open first on Christmas morning. “You got me good, Mom. I thought
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you had forgotten “ she said when she called.
I’d take it off the hanger and hold it close. My spirits were always lifted.”
Karen moved back to North Carolina just before Hurricane Andrew roared into Florida. Her dad went to help her move and the approaching storm made it impossible for them to pack everything she wanted to bring with her. They had to leave ahead of schedule. I wanted to ask if she thought to bring the jumpsuit with her but didn’t because I was just thankful her dad and she and the boys had gotten out safely.
I could believe it. I had done the same thing. As of this day, “that thing” still has tiny hot pink bows, umpteen stars and tiny bears scattered over it. All were added through the years and nothing was ever removed.
But, later, I got the jumpsuit tucked in with a Mother’s Day gift. I was so happy and told her that I was afraid she had left it in Florida. “Mom, you know, it was one of the first things I packed because ‘that thing’ is a family treasure. Never could I have left it behind,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe how it made me feel when I was homesick. Sometimes,
Karen has now had it in her sole possession for four years or more but, I know, when I least expect it, I’ll be the proud owner again. Who would have thought that such a simple item would have played such a big role in the lives of this mother and her daughter? It helped keep us close when we were 900 miles apart. :::::
Sherry Boone is a local writer and storyteller. Her “Letters from Myrtle” from her book, “A Bloomin’ Bouquet,” have been aired on local radio and NPR. The Ashe County Mountains Times published her “Letters” for several years.