Sorting through my closet often turns up all sort of forgotten treasures. A simple thinning-the-herd chore turned into a moment of happy sentimentality.
My mother is an accomplished artist. Her medium of choice is watercolors, but she also creates lovely Pen and Ink drawings, and acrylic paintings.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, I asked if she would paint something for me to celebrate my pending motherhood. Knowing my sometimes warped sense of humor, she gave me a way to tell the world that I had “a bun in the oven.”
While pulling things out of my closet, I found the top she painted for me – a vision of my baby waving from behind her oven window.
The top is one of only a few things I’ve kept from my children’s early years – my daughter turns 23 this summer. (Gawd, that’s hard to say out loud.) I have no expectation that she would want to wear it when she begins her own family. I can’t give it up though. I’ll be 103 and still have it tucked away in a closet or dresser drawer somewhere.
Finding the painting, and the memories it brought up, just added to a sense of lost I’ve been experiencing lately. My kids are becoming more and more independent, and while that is what every parent hopes for, it’s not as easy as you think it might be. When you define yourself as a mother, when that part of your identity so drastically changes, there is that ‘what do I do now’ response.
So, what do I do now?