My Dad called on this the anniversary of Mom passing and, in all his Georgia Tech mathematical prowess, mentioned that it had been nearly 2200 days.
Twenty-two hundred? Is that even possible? (the irony of my favorite number being 22 was not lost on me, either.)
But 2200 days?
In the six years since I lost my Mom, my life has been a steamroller of change, growth and a grab bag of emotions. I have moved three times, started my own business and have become a Mom to two beautiful children. Some days, it is hard to grasp that she wasn't a part of those oh-so-important events in my life.
But she was.
Pat Trotter possessed many talents...but one she was particularly known for was sewing. She could take a scrap of fabric and fashion out of it a stuffed animal for a new baby, a skirt for a school dance or a throw pillow for my bed. She could take needle and thread and solve the worlds problems--or, at the very least, whatever dilemma I might have had that day.
So, when I think about my life and how it has all woven together, I very clearly see her small but strong hands stitching together the person I have become.Stitch by stitch, her influence on my life appears to me daily in the smallest of ways. It is in the good morning song that I sing to my oldest son or the way I love the smell of fresh towels from the dryer. Her presence is there as I stick a note in my son's lunch or when I stir spaghetti sauce on the stove. It's in the way I love to see vacuum marks appear on the carpet or the music I dance to as I pick up some toys.
Has 2200 days erased any part of the influence that woman had on my life? Not at all. In fact, I believe it gets stronger as time goes on. She taught me to appreciate the little things in life...the dance of a raindrop on the patio table outside and the magic of a blank sheet of paper and a bright-colored marker in my hand. She taught me to listen to the words of a song...not just the music and to dance and to laugh and to love to the fullest.
I'm missing you today, Mom. But I thank you for carefully weaving together the woman that I am. Because the woman that I am can only hope to be the mother that you were to me for 32 years.
I love you.
