My Mother's Eyes

I'm coming up on year 36 of life. Things have changed. Everything my elders barked at me throughout adolescence has come true, so far. After 30 it's harder to do anything. You have less energy. Things just "aren't what they used to be". What's even stranger is that I find myself sounding more and more like them everyday. I say things like, "Kids these days." more often than I'd like to admit.  I'm certain that when my years really begin to add up my kids will mock me saying, "You know what I mean?" I used to mock my mom. She would always say, "What you wanna do is..." and then promptly tell me how to do something I already knew how to do. Mom. I wish she was here to mock today. I would tease her, she would roll her eyes at me. We would laugh, but instead it's quiet. Now there are nothing but memories to sort through and piece together wondering what wisdom she might share with me now.

I try very hard to remember the advice she had to give when I was young. There are things she told me that I definitely strive to carry on such as: Treat people how you want to be treated, leave a place better than you found it. Then there are things I saw her do. She was gracious to everyone. She treated everyone with incredible respect and dignity whether they deserved it or not. If she said thank you she meant it. If she was thinking of you, she'd let you know. Someone once said of her, "She had more class in her pinky finger than anyone I know. " I would tend to agree. She was a great lady.

In recent years I've caught glimpses of her in the bathroom mirror, in the reflection of my car, in the windows of my kids rooms. As my eyes begin to crease. The way I smile more on my right side. They way my hair is more silver than grey. It's strange that I've tried to deny that she's still present with me this way. However my sister saw it the other day. We were bowling and I ran in front of the lane to take her picture and when I looked up at her she startled for a moment. "You just made the face! You made the mom face!" As I'm aging she sees mom too. It's my eyes. Not the color or the shape really, but a certain expression I couldn't duplicate intentionally.

My mom was intensely emotional, and it was usually held back by a dam of self protectiveness, but it was there and I saw it. I remember that intensity in her eyes. When she was happy or sad or angry. It didn't matter how calm she appeared on the outside, her eyes were always the give away. She could never fully hide who she was in her eyes. Her anxiety,her love,her fears, her pain. All there in the eyes.

It's been a long time and though the memories I have of her are faded here and there, I cannot forget her eyes. I don't want to either.