"Home is not a place, it's a feeling..." -- Unknown
Andrae, my "little big" brother, has stepped in my daddy's shoes over the past year. His promise to daddy was that he would take care of mama and make sure everything at her house would be maintained. So in the middle of the week, he announced that he and his family, along with Jacobi (my other little brother) and his family would all be out of town, and charged me as mama's keeper over the weekend -- which was a no-brainer.
You see, we've all become protective of Rosa Belle since she was sick with COVID in October and overly protective since daddy transitioned in November. With Andrae as our captain over the past ten months, we decided to do some work around mama's house -- we've painted, we've put down new flooring, we've deep cleaned, we've rearrange, we decluttered and downsized -- all to make her happy and comfortable in this season of her life. My mama holds great pride in her house, the house daddy built with his own two hands in 1965, the home both he and mama built with love for themselves and their seven children and all of the grandchildren that were to come. With all of the changes, the house looks more like mama today, but it still feels like home.
This past year led me to ponder and pick apart my upbringing and the life my parents built for us. One word describes the entire experience: love. Each time we would come over to check on them, which was daily, they greeted us as if they hadn't seen us in years. Each time we would call to check on them, which was daily, they would answer the phone with excitement as if they hadn't heard from us in years. I see now that we are their crowns of joy and glory, and they are our crowns of joy and glory. To be held in such a way creates a loving space of home.
So taking my charge from Captain Andrae very seriously, I asked mama:
"Mama, would you like to stay over to my house this weekend?"
"I could do that, couldn't I?" she replied.
Now, I speak fluent Rosa Belle. I knew all too well that her reply was code for "I ain' leavin' my house. I'm just fine here." So, I decided to try a different approach:
"Mama, would you like for me to spend the night with you?"
"You can if you want to," she casually responded.
I knew she wanted me to stay with her but being the mother who does not like to interrupt the flow of her children's lives (so very unlike her husband), she wouldn't dare say yes in fear of being an imposition. I was going to stay regardless, so I threw a few things in a bag and headed over for our sleepover. I made it over about 6pm which was well past her bedtime. Around 7pm, I told her she did not have to stay up "late" just because I was there, so she conceded and went to her room to get ready for bed. Making an announcement from her room, she yelled:
"Jackie, you can sleep in my bed, and I'll sleep in the daybed in the office."
"No ma'am! I'll sleep out here in the dayroom. Please go to your bedroom."
"Nope! I've already turned down the bed for you. I'll be fine in the office."
We went back and forth for several minutes. Realizing it was a losing battle, I went into her room to do a bit of work before going to bed. I hadn't slept in my childhood home for almost six years. I stood in front of the bed, staring at it for several minutes with a smile. My mama turned down the bed for me. I can't grow up in her eyes. I'll always be her little girl. The room was different -- all sweet and bright and dainty -- just like her. But it was familiar because it was the room where we would run when we were afraid as children. It was the room where we would excitedly gather early Christmas mornings. It was the room where daddy would tell us to go search for his shoes underneath the bed or to fetch his Sunday pants he could not find, the pants that were hidden in plain sight on the doorknob. It was the room where we would sit with mama and daddy in the evenings when daddy was too weak from dialysis to sit with us in the dayroom. I stared at the smiling faces of daddy and my brothers Tim and Jamey in the pictures that were on her dresser -- her three men who were no longer here. I felt them in the room; they were all happy to have me sleep over at our family home as well.
This morning, I woke up around 5am to prepare for my private devotion in the dayroom. The house was quiet. I flipped on the ceiling track lighting in the room and saw that only one bulb was working. I sat in daddy's lift chair and noticed the light had landed on a beautifully framed picture that was bought and hung when we redecorated the dayroom. I hadn't really ever paid attention to it before, but I was forced to read its message because of the way it was presented in the light: Having a place to go is HOME, having someone to love is FAMILY, Having both is a BLESSING. Amen to that.
At 6:30am while writing this blog, I heard mama walking to the restroom. And because being here overnight reminded me what this house symbolizes, because this overnight stay solidified and confirmed who I am to her and who I was to daddy, I already knew her next move.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she spotted me in the dayroom and said in a cheerful voice, as if she hadn't seen me in years:
"Well, good morning!"
"Good morning!" I said with the same cheer.
Several minutes later, she walked into the dayroom and sat on the couch with a small bowl of food and said:
"Go on in the kitchen and get you some grits and eggs."
"Mama, you didn't have to do that," I said.
"Oh, you see, I have to take all this ol' medicine and need to eat somethin' before I take it," she explained.
There on the stove was a single serving of grits and eggs, just enough for one person. Mama, who is known to survive off of a piece of raisin bread toast and a cup of hot tea for the entire day, made this breakfast for her little girl. May I always be a little girl who is always welcomed home by her love.
May I strive to make others feel as she makes me feel. May I be the crown of joy and glory to others. May I always be mindful and present enough to not only receive the spirit and comfort and safety and love of a heartfelt "welcome home" from others, but also offer it genuinely and generously from the purest essence of my being. Yes, may others feel like they have come home when in my presence.
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