Fall, literal and figurative…

For my usual autumn musings, see past posts here, or here. Or, strangely, here. I’m still grieving. It ebbs and flows, you know. One way that I’ve marked time since the 9th of July is to note each time I do something new without my mom. Even things that I never really did with her get counted. Here’s a partial list.

First shower without my mom. (weird, I know. It was just about “here is the rest of my life now, motherless from here on out” I think).

First time putting laundry away without my mom (oh, mercy. She had folded half that basket full).

First blog post without my mom (she remains the top commenter here).

First trip to the grocery store without my mom (oh, RyKrisp, why must you pain me so?)

First nightmare without my mom.

First doctor’s appointment without my mom (I bawled the whole time. My doctor cried, too).

First time mowing the lawn without my mom.

First time at Dairy Queen without my mom.

First hotdish without my mom (food was important in my family. Back off).

First episode of Little House on the Prairie without my mom.

First trip to the casino without my mom.

First early Elberta peaches without my mom (I didn’t get to eat any of these, because without Myra I didn’t know when they were coming. Next year I’m all over it).

First first day of school without my mom.

Shaun’s first play without my mom (I swear there was a woman there who coughed just like her).

V’s first parent-teacher conference without my mom.

First time whipping cream without my mom.

First pumpkin pie without my mom.

First cold without my mom (sniff).

V’s first strep infection without my mom.

The first MEA weekend without my mom.

First autumn without my mom.

I don’t know how to write about this without sounding melancholy and self-absorbed. But that’s about all my grief is right now.  Food-based, self-absorbed melancholy.  And so it goes.

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About Jennifer

Writer teacher mama sister friend sewist poet trying to stay warm in Minnesota's northwest.
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