Victoria (my Mommy) was adamant that there be no Mother's Day gifts this year. I usually ignore such requests, but realized I can honor those wishes and still celebrate what a thoughtful, caring mom she is by sharing a favorite memory.
When I was barely seven, I wanted to get her an extra special Mother's Day gift. Something just from me ... apart from any ensemble presents ... showing how much I loved and appreciated her, one-on-one. If you come from a large family, you'll understand.
Naturally, I started scouting tchotchkes (as you do) at F.W. Woolworth in the Blue Ridge Mall. Hey -- I was on a budget. Anyway, after careful consideration, I settled on a small ceramic dog, holding a purse in its mouth. We were all crazy about dogs ... and the purse made it feel mom-like, so I felt as if I'd discovered the most brilliant gift ever. Something she had surely been pining for. The only obstacle: It cost $1.19 ... and I only had a dollar. After a small conference with Grandma, I proudly marched to the counter with said dog and a freshly obtained quarter. All was right in the world.
For whatever reason, the good people at Woolworth had a practice of stapling your receipt to the bag itself. Being seven (and not very bright), I immediately thought, 'what a cool handle,' and proceeded to carry the bagged ceramic by its single staple-tethered receipt. I had *almost* made it out of the store when it tore away, smashing to the tiled floor in a disastrous boom of doom.
I couldn't even bear to look inside. Silent tears streaming down my face, I joined the others. It never occurred to me to get a replacement. I mean, I had found THE perfect one. Grandma asked to see my pretty. She always referred to little decorations as "pretties." Then, I told her what happened, which shifted my silent tears to bawling. She looked in the bag and said, "We'll fix it."
Watching over her shoulder as if she were a surgeon, my beloved Beany skillfully glued the masterpiece back together, laboring to make it look whole again. This Mother's Day ode is just as much about that special lady as my own mom, now that I think about it.
The results were not spectacular. But to a kid, I was over the moon and proudly wrapped that little dog and presented it to my sweet mother. She acted as if it was the greatest gift ever ... validating all of my initial instincts from the mall.
During a visit last autumn, I was looking at some framed photos on a shelf when something astonishing caught my eye just above them. All these years later, the little dog with the sad, broken body was lurking there in the shadows, still clutching that purse in her mouth. As moms do, she had reacted to that gift as if it were a treasure when I gave it to her as a kid ... and in that moment of seeing it still in her possession last year, I realized that entire experience simply reinforces that SHE is the true treasure.
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