Growing up, my mom read to my younger brother and I a lot. "Make Way for Ducklings", "Amos and Boris", and "Owl at Home" were some of the ones we made her read over and over. However, my favorite was and always has been, "Blueberries for Sal". I still have it, along with many of the others.
Blueberries remind me of my mom. She picked them, froze them, and baked with them. A customer favorite at the Village Restaurant were the blueberry pancakes.
Yesterday LM and I went to pick blueberries. We went far back into the patch. An area that most avoided due to poison ivy and poison oak, but it was quiet and lovely. We picked, and I had one of those moments where I could feel her, not her presence, but her essence. Knowing we were doing something she loved.
The longer she's gone, the more I seek these moments out. Not to make myself sad, or wallow in grief, but to honor her, and to solidify my memories.
Te echo de menos mami.