A Memory

Memorial Day Weekend.  Just plain tired.  Tim got in Friday night and then we had to go run errands Saturday morning.  The truck wasn't ready to pick up from the shop so we finished grocery shopping and came home.  It was already 11 by the time we got back to the house.  The weather was a wash out so I knew we were not going to be able to get Mom's wheelchair up the front yard and I was already so late to start cooking.  We decided that we would pick her up Sunday morning and hope for the best from the weather.   I worked for hours in the yard in the rain - by the time I got to bed, my body was killing me. Before I went to bed, I put on a pot of potatoes and eggs to boil for my Mom's favorite potato salad that I promised her for lunch.

It's Sunday morning.  I cannot sleep and wake up at 4 am.  It's probably best to get an early start and I quietly pull out the bowl of potatoes and eggs to make the potato salad and put a pot on to make baked beans.  This brought back all sorts of memories of waking up in bed as a kid listening to my Mom who never seemed to sleep on holidays always up before everyone starting to cook.  You could hear her in the kitchen moving around.  I was my Mom's official food tester.  It was a privilege I had earned over the years.  While everyone else slept, I would wake up and make my way to the kitchen.  The ham, or lasagna, or turkey or sometimes all of the above would be well on it's way.  My mother cooked for an army with my Dad and 3 boys.  I would sit at the bar in the kitchen and watch her move around the kitchen.  This was when she was happiest.  Cooking. Having a purpose.  Doing things for her family.  I would just sit there and watch her.  Everything was in her head.  I don't ever remember her following recipes.  She just knew what to do.  The smell would be delicious and she would hold a spoon out to me to taste whatever she would be cooking.

One of my favorite things she made was her potato salad.  The simplest of ingredients - potatoes, eggs, celery, onion, yellow mustard and mayonnaise.  It is still one of my favorite things to eat.  Years ago, she gave me her 1960's pyrex solid stackable bowls which included this yellow bowl that she always made potato salad in it. I pull this bowl out of the cabinet because I love to show Mom that I still have it.  "Too much mustard?" "Does it need salt?"  She would ask.  I loved that first taste - it was always pretty perfect.

I start mashing potatoes and peeling eggs while I can still hear the frogs chirping outside.  I can totally understand why my Mom would love this time of day to cook meals.  I taste it and it's perfect and put it in the refrigerator to cool.  I move onto the next bowl.  I think of her the entire time hoping that she is not going to be too tired when I pick her up.  She loves being here. It makes her feel that life is normal again.  It makes me feel good that she is here in the house with us - part of our holidays together.