My Little Chickadee

    She used to call me “my little chickadee”.  When I was in early grammar school, I was in a musical where each child was some type of bird.  I was a chickadee and the name lovingly stayed.  For years, my Mom called me her “little chickadee”.  Over the years, I often thought of that, especially around Mother’s Day as I remembered times we shared.

    Our elementary school was just a few blocks from our house, but my Mom stood at our front door and watched me cross the street and walk down the block until she couldn’t see me.  This was an every day routine.  I would turn around and see her standing at the door waving to me.  What a comforting sight to know that somebody was watching out for me.

    Mom was a morning person and she passed that trait on to me.  She would come in to my room to wake me up for school each morning with a smile on her face and a lilt in her voice.  Never a grunt or a yell to “get up!”.  No, it was a “good morning, time to get up”.  Very gentle, very soothing.  And I’ve been the same way.  Thank goodness I married another morning person. 

    One day I came home from high school and my room was completely re-done.  By that I mean, it was painted a gorgeous light peach color on all the walls, the woodwork and window trims were pearl white, and I had a new multi-shade shag carpet of oranges and yellows and greens.  Oh, I was in heaven!  It was a beautiful room!  And I had a new bedspread with an orange and white and yellow flowered pattern and curtains to match.  It went beautifully with my French provincial furniture.  When the sunlight entered my room, I couldn’t  feel anything but happy and safe and vibrant.  I couldn’t stop thanking Mom for weeks.

    Our family called Mom “the happy hooker” because she decided to learn how to hook rugs and became proficient at that.  When I moved from Maryland to Texas, Mom had just had foot surgery.  To relieve her mind that I was moving to a good place, Dad decided it might be fun for her to drive along with me, so Mom could see where I was going to live.  It also was company for me.  We had quite an adventure, as Mom had a major migraine headache the night before we left Maryland.  Fortunately, I was able to contact my family doctor, who, at that time, still made house calls.  The following morning,  Mom was fine and we packed her casted foot and hooking yarns in my 1970 Mustang fastback, and off we went.

    Stopping for breakfast in any southern state was interesting as neither of us had ever had “grits” and we decided it just wasn’t our choice of a breakfast food.  But at least we tried!  And everyone who served us at restaurants was so friendly and wanted to chat.  We got called “honey” or “sweetheart” more times than we could count.

    Mom added extra phrases to any holiday or special event card, like a birthday or anniversary, always underlining special words and adding exclamation points.  I guess that’s why I use exclamation points so often….She never ended a phone conversation without an “I love you” and “God bless you”. 

    One of my favorite pictures of Mom and me was taken a few years ago at the Coventry Tea Room near Pottstown, PA.  I don’t think this cute little restaurant is open now, but we enjoyed the ambience, service and the delicious food.  And more, just the two of us when I was able to travel from Texas to PA.  Just a lunch with me and my Mom.

    Mom will be 89 years old this August.  I know she doesn’t know how to use a computer or an iPad, or facebook, so I will send her a copy of this so she can read it whenever it arrives by snail mail.  And that’s okay.  Time and Time Again, whenever she chooses to read it, she will think of me and show it to one of her friends, and say, “this is from my little chickadee”.