Cicadas and Memories by V-Ann Davis (red novels .txt) 📕

have to admit there are times when you just really want to be able to lock the door and stare at the walls for a few minutes without the siren call of "mommy" rising from the other side of the door. I sometimes tell my kids, "I am NOT your mommy, she left and told me to watch you till she got back". Just every once in a while I just want to be V-Ann, and not just "mommy". What then?? Well, I pack my bags and head away- to Starbucks, the library, even just a trip to the store if that is all I can manage. BUT, and here is the secret, I spend the time I am out looking at other parents and THEIR kids. I see how they smile at their children, I watch how they respond to a spill or worse, I listen to their chatter to their babies. Then I ask myself if I want to be just me or am I happy being mommy too...

I have NEVER come home wanting to be just me. I have come home and hugged my teenagers, tickled my little ones and kissed my wonderful husband. I come home with the knowledge that I am right NOW in the best place in the world. I am a mommy.
Generations

Generations

Some times when I am in a retrospective mood I think, and I mean REALLY think. The kind you normally don't do unless you are really depressed or have just a lot on your mind. THAT kind of thinking. And today was one of those thinking days for me..
Today we went to a family reunion for my moms mothers side of the family. The "Hardin " reunion,the one where I really don't normally know many people- or didn't before facebook :)
Now I am on at least passing familiarity with most of the people there. So it made me think even deeper.
I sat watching my MOTHER, the woman who is my rock and my never changing source of hope, talking with her 2 remaining sisters. Her brother could not make it this year and her sister died a few years back because of cancer. So she and the two sisters sat and talked a lot and about everything under the sun. And there were lots of inside jokes, and lots of smiling going on there. And as I watched them I kept thinking how old each of them were getting. And as I sat and watched them talk for the longest time, I just couldn't stop my mind from reeling about the fact that THIS would one day be me, and my sister and our 2 brothers. We as a sibling group have all grown up and grown apart, yet we have so much history that we share with one another when we get together.
I sat at thought about how we lived together so many years ago and knew every little quirk each one of us had, each favorite food, each taste in music, even down to gross stuff like the way the socks smelled when they were taken off. And now , as each of us have families of our own- and some of them even have families of their own- how little we KNOW about each other now. I could not even pretend to tell you my baby brothers favorite food, or my sisters bedtime routine, or my other brothers favorite music choices. And that saddened me. Like brought tears to my eyes and I wanted to curl up and bawl sorta saddened me. And I just wonder if my mom and her siblings ever had these thoughts. Or is just me who tends to dwell deeper than the normal .
I listened to my aunt talk about how my mom was as a little girl, and how HER mom- my grandmother was as a person, and I miss that. I hate that as we grow older we have to go off on our own, be apart from those who were our first friend, first enemy, our first everything. I miss being able to run into a room and bounce my brother off his bed, to sneak around a corner and shoot my sister with a water gun, to curl up into my moms lap and smirk at my brother because I "got there first". And I know , no matter what, it can never be the same again. Even if we all lived in the same house, it would all be different.
And as I think about it, I wonder if in 30 more years my great grand children will watch me and my siblings as we talk and wonder if they will one day be like us .

Grandmas

I wear many hats these days. I am a sister, a wife, a mother, an aunt, a friend. But the one I am most absorbed in being right now , is a grandma. I have had a few grandmas....seeing as how my parents divorced when I was younger and then both remarried. And they were everything from very strict to just strange.
My fathers mother, MawMaw Smith as we called her- was, and still is, a clean house nut :). My 3 siblings and I lived with her for a few months when I was 9 and I still remember "beds were made to sleep on, not sit on", "you make the bed before you leave the room", "put it away, dont put it down". She taught me to make a proper hospital corner on a bed , and to this day I still make it that way. My bedsheets are shaken clean each morning and the bed made. I cant stand to sleep on wrinkled sheets AT ALL, and I owe it all to her. I remember many baths after eating sticky foods like watermelon and peaches or ice cream- not just a hand washing or face cleaning.
My fathers mother , MawMaw Albright was almost the exact opposite. She was no slob, but we were kids there. We played in the water in the backyard and ran naked thru the house to get clean clothes on. She taught us about gardens and sticky pecan pie. My grandfather had built the house himself so it had a permanent tilt to the floors. We loved "rolling" a ball from one side of the house to the other. She has been gone for almost 11 years now and that old house torn down to make way for newer ones. I think that is is because of her that I love country living and ways.
My stepfathers mother, Grandma Dot, was a proper lady in her younger day. We sat on her couches, stiff as boards because we were afraid we would do something improper if we moved. She would play the piano so wonderfully, and had a wind up record player she would allow us to listen to. She had a dinner bell to call us to the table for meals, and you were 13 before you sat there. Before that you ate a a table in the kitchen "the childrens table". You never left her house without the feeling you were someone special. From her I learned to appreciate tradition.
As my father remarried twice I dont remember much of either of those grandmas. And that saddens me when I dwell on it. But as I have no ill feelings towards them, I am sure they were sweet and kind.And strangely enough it is because of THEM that I want to be remembered.
I have the joy of 5 grandchildren so far-all girls. And I have the added joy of living close to them all, within walking distance even. So there is never a week goes by that they are not a part of my life. As I type this I am holding a sleeping 2 year old in my lap and marveling about the fact that she is part of me. Her 2 sisters are in the other room watching a movie and playing with my old typewriter. It is so awe inspiring to realize that she is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.
How will these 5 girls remember me, their Grandma Davis??
Will it be the crazy loud music and hula hoop, the toys that are always available, the books and crayons that were often spread from room to room ?? Or, horror of horrors will it be the times I got angry at the mess and raised my voice to tell them to get it cleaned up? Will they remember sometimes I was too busy to stop what I was doing to come see their creations,or hear their stories?

Just how will I be remembered by these wonders that call me 'Grandma"

One of Those Days

Those days

Some days you just want to be.. But be what, where, even sometimes who is the question.
Laying in the bed in the morning your mind wanders far away, the sky just seems to draw it. Blue so blue that you just want to sink into it, to float away on the clouds so white and light and airy. The green of the trees just hurts your eyes against the blue and white. The colors are so bright and intense that you can't imagine there ever being colors that beautiful.

Those days start right, start with memories and thoughts and dreams.

Sitting in a different room from the others, close enough to hear- but not to be seen... Perfect for those