Friday, March 13, 2009

2200 Days...

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.