The Red Bird Comes All Winter

Mom's been roaming the halls, so to speak.
Her bedroom, bathroom and living room, as well as my sewing/crafting/office/guest room, are on one side of our house.
She and I have been, almost quite literally, running into each other in the hallway for the past three days and nights. It has reminded me of when we'd clash in the kitchen - not because of differences, but because of her walker, which would sometimes get in the way of our "cooking flow."

I smell her, I feel her, and I talk to her -- yep, I admit it -- I've been talking to her.
But when I tell you why, you'll understand.

My sewing/crafting/office/guest room has had only a full bed in it, and when guests did come and spend some time with us, they were cramped into that small-ish bed. Mom also only had a full bed. She could have had whatever she wanted, and she chose a full bed. (I'm sure you can see now where this is going.)

I've been thinking, for about a month, that it might be time to eliminate the two full beds and replace Mother's with a queen size, making her bedroom the new guest room -- and making my sewing/crafting/office/guest room just "Studio Sydney."

I have no plans to make any other changes to my mother's bedroom; no painting, no replacing of curtains, still not removing clothing from the closet, not replacing any other furniture -- just replacing the bed. (Which, frankly, she talked about doing last year.)

My husband and I dragged the two full beds out of the rooms and into our family room. The next day, a friend with two children who have grown out of their bunk beds came for them.
I was good with that.
After my friend picked up the beds, my husband and I set out on a mission to buy a new queen size bed, bring it home in the back of the big-ass pick up truck and set it up. But, because I seem to welcome new drama, the purchase became an ordeal as we vacillated over the decision to buy a new bed for us and put ours in Mother's room, or just buy a less expensive bed for her room and leave it at that. Four hours later, and visits to more than five other mattress stores in the area, we made the decision to buy a new Stearns & Foster (yippee) for us and put ours in Mother's room. It would be delivered at the end of the week.
I was good with that.

Until we got home.

I went into my mom's old bedroom and her scent hit me light a ton of bricks.
I relished in it, though; sat there in the middle of her floor and soaked it in.
It felt good.

That afternoon, I began reorganizing "Studio Sydney," removing anything and everything that doesn't have anything to do with sewing, crafting, art, creativity - you get the picture. That meant the old domino effect had taken over. Now there were things piling up in Mother's living room that would have to be reorganized and put away, and when I ran out of room in there, it spilled over into the breakfast room.

For two days, as I've worked feverishly to sort through things and downsize,  I've smelled her. And for two days I've wondered why I was such an emotional wreck -- again. I was riding that "missing mom" wave, and it completely drained me this time. I cried and cried all day yesterday and last night. Completely distraught, I decided to take a break last evening and sit outside on our back porch, and that's when everything became very clear to me.

Two bright red cardinals, Mom's favorite bird and the first ones I've seen this season, landed on the branch of a tree in front of me, firing up the landscape (as Mary Oliver would say). For at least the past 20 years or so, Mother and I have called the first cardinal of the season Aunt Anna Louise, after her oldest sister who passed away about then. Yesterday when there were two of them right in front of me, it calmed me and put me in a much better place. For sure, it was Mom and her sister.
When I went back in the house to resume my quest to find organization - "it" hit me. Like Mom's scent had done, "it" also hit me like a ton of bricks. Mom was roaming the halls, because just like me, she can't stand when things are out of order...and things were definitely out of order: no bed in her room, boxes of stuff piled five-feet high in her living room, the broom, mop and dust rag laying on the floor, etc.

She was just as discombobulated as I.

Last night I promised her the mess would be gone by the end of the day today and a new bed would be in her room by the end of the week. When I got home from work, her scent was lingering, as if she was standing over me while I finished the task. And finish it, I did.
I'm so pleased with the outcome, and really glad it has turned out to be another learning experience for me as I grapple with my loneliness for my best friend and mentor.

A view of my newly re-organized "Studio Sydney" with Mom's chair, side table and lamp taken from her living room, my quilt made from her clothes on the back of the chair, and a pillow made by my mother. I love it all, except those pesky computer wires.

I love you, Mom. I'm sure your next visit will be where you tell me you're okay.

Red bird came all winter,
firing up the landscape

as nothing else could.

Of course I love the sparrows,

those dun-colored darlings
so hungry and so many.
I am a God-fearing feeder of birds.
I know He has many children,
not all of them bold in spirit.
Still, for whatever reason —
perhaps because the winter is so long
and the sky so black-blue,
or perhaps because the heart narrows
as often as it opens —
I am glad
that red bird comes all winter,
firing up the landscape
as nothing else can do.
-- Mary Oliver