Celebrating Early December's Child
*
I am not a winter person, and I never will be no matter how hard I try to pretend. However, the season of ice and frost stars ties me to my mother. A December child, “Bonnie Bess” is forever enshrined with the coming of snowfall and Christmas lights in my mind. She passed away quite suddenly when I was twenty-four.
I know I should be grateful for how much time I had with her on this Earth, but the older I get, the more mundane silly things I miss being able to share and celebrate with her, like that time I (probably) found a real 1980’s Valentino necklace at the thrift store for under ten bucks! (*Saving that for another post).
Her memory fades faster than melting snowflakes each year, and I hate that. I want to keep her silhouette crisp as silver tinsel and clear as starlight, which is why I’ve decided that as long as I’m penning The Luniferous Gazette, the first issue in December will always be dedicated to her loveliness.
Photo from her teenage years
So what are the little rituals that still bind me to my mother’s gentle presence?
1. Listening to Gregorian chant and choral music on Sundays. My sisters and I all have fond memories of waking up to the serene echoes of monks, nuns, and a cappella singers as our mom played Chant and Anonymous 4. Christmas also reminds us of our mother whenever we replay Maggie Sansone’s Sound of the Seasons I & II. She was an avid BMG and Columbia House CD club customer, so we were lucky to grow up in her lyrical sanctuary.
2. Keeping at least one African Violent in my home. Our mother, like her grandmother before her, loved African Violets. Every time I pass a colorful collection of these flowers in the garden section of a grocery store, I can’t help a little smile as I think how much my mom would’ve enjoyed them, too.
1. Listening to Gregorian chant and choral music on Sundays. My sisters and I all have fond memories of waking up to the serene echoes of monks, nuns, and a cappella singers as our mom played Chant and Anonymous 4. Christmas also reminds us of our mother whenever we replay Maggie Sansone’s Sound of the Seasons I & II. She was an avid BMG and Columbia House CD club customer, so we were lucky to grow up in her lyrical sanctuary.
2. Keeping at least one African Violent in my home. Our mother, like her grandmother before her, loved African Violets. Every time I pass a colorful collection of these flowers in the garden section of a grocery store, I can’t help a little smile as I think how much my mom would’ve enjoyed them, too.
3. Writing down poetry and quotes in a notebook. My mother kept a notebook full of her favorite poems and sayings her entire life, and she’d often share them when I was going through tough times. This is one of my personal favorites:
“If at night you cry for the sun, you won’t see the stars.” –Rabindranath Tagore.
It’s a bit wrinkled, but the Spanish version of this quote that belonged to my mom accompanied me all through college, and is now framed and jeweled (albeit a tad crookedly) on my dining room wall:
I have a habit of screenshotting any online quotes or poems I like to reread later, but that fills up my phone fairly fast, and frankly, I often forget about them. So, I’ve started transcribing them in my own notebook with my terrible handwriting. I find the process quietly soothing. More than that, it makes the author’s message more believable and memorable, as if by taking the conscious effort to pen them on paper, I am etching their words deeper into my heart, too.
One of my favorites is from my sister B: “Don’t look into the void! Fill it with sparkles. There’s always enough room for sparkle.”
One of my favorites is from my sister B: “Don’t look into the void! Fill it with sparkles. There’s always enough room for sparkle.”
4. Reading stories aloud. My sisters and I all have vivid memories of our mother reading the Green Knowe book series by Lucy M. Boston to us at night. She in turn inspired me to read J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series to my younger sisters, and now they have fond recollections of my attempts at a Gollum voice.
Although I can’t help cringing a bit at my awkwardness on camera, I also enjoyed recording Iffy Magic as a read-aloud series on YouTube. I plan to record more stories and poems starting next year, and already have a ridiculous podcast title in mind that makes me snicker each time I think of it (sorry, no hints). Sometimes, you must set aside the fear of being “cringe-worthy” to allow for a little fun. Reading aloud becomes both an act of confidence and a creative blend of ink and voice, which is why I think it can be such an imaginative experience.
5. TV Entertainment. Thanks to our mother’s wide curiosity and interests, we grew up with Reading Rainbow, Nova, Star Trek, British mystery series like Miss Marple and Poirot, the whimsy of Shelley Duvall’s Faerie Tale Theatre, the thrill of watching the Triple Crown horse races and Olympic Ice Skating competitions, and oh yes—disaster movies. And not just any, I mean potential MEGA disasters like the sudden volcanic eruption of Yellowstone!
My mom probably would’ve really enjoyed John Cusack’s crazy 2012 film. I was so excited to tell my sisters about the Norwegian series La Palma when it came out on Netflix, because we all remembered watching a documentary with our mother about just such a hypothetical mega-disaster. Watching such flicks and chatting about them afterwards may be a silly sort of ritual, but one that brings us all a good chuckle.
*Bonus Ritual
I accidentally started this little ritual a few years ago. I began buying bouquet brooches whenever I saw them at the thrift store to place in front of my mother’s jar of ashes and photos. It’s just a minor symbolic way to honor her memory, but it brings me a tiny thimble’s worth of joy. I like placing this vintage Avon rose brooch in front of a snowflake-frame picture my mother gave me of herself when I went off to my first year of college.
I hardly have any photographs of my mother in her later years as she was very self-conscious about how health issues had impacted her body image, so I cherish her smile and the shining swoop of her dark hair here. Not that I’m biased as her daughter or anything, but I believe her kind spirit and beauty deserve all the bouquets in every multiverse!
A Final Note
At the very winnowed end of this year, I hope you take time to let those dear to you know of that velvet-warm dearness, deep as a hug. And not just what they mean to you in all their big ways, but in the small slices of happiness they bring your life, too, rich as pumpkin pie. Because one day, that moment will simply pass. There will be no more plates to share, no feast among gone-away family and friends, just little rituals that bring a pang and a smile and maybe, a treasured echo of their presence.
Ink Afterthoughts
In honor of my mother’s birthday, my poetry ebook Tangible Creatures will be free to download off Amazon from Friday, December 5th to Tuesday, December 9th this month. Many of the poems are about her, both the losing and the finding:
“Mother ash undone universe
Breathe into me—
(Just one more time)
But how does one plead with a ghost?
How dare I ask for some
MORE.”
In honor of my mother’s birthday, my poetry ebook Tangible Creatures will be free to download off Amazon from Friday, December 5th to Tuesday, December 9th this month. Many of the poems are about her, both the losing and the finding:
“Mother ash undone universe
Breathe into me—
(Just one more time)
But how does one plead with a ghost?
How dare I ask for some
MORE.”
~*~
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