The breeze lifts the lace curtain and a cool breeze blows in the open window. I smell rain in the air as the baseball game plays on the television.
And it all brings up memories of childhood and home and Mom and Dad. I wonder why that is. Because the windows were open more as I was growing up without air conditioning? I want to go visit Mom and Dad.
I want to give Daddy a big hug and feel his strong arms around me. I want to smell the Old Spice powder he used after his showers. I want to hear Daddy belting out, “Oh What a Beautiful Morning…” as he shaves.
Why am I so melancholy today? Is it because of the rain? Or is it because it’s my wedding anniversary? Last year, my first year celebrating it without either parent living, was so emotional. I thought I was better this year.
I picture all the dresses Mom sewed so beautifully for our wedding. I can see us posing for family photos, looking a little stiff, but happy. I can almost feel my hand on Daddy’s arm, and his other hand pressed over mine, as he walks me down the aisle. I can hear the congregation laughing as my baby brother dodges my hug, as we are ushering out guests, and runs down the aisle.
I hear memories of dishes and silverware clanging in the church kitchen, as Mom and Dad and Uncle Don and Aunt Vera, serve our simple reception with generous hearts and smiles.
I want to walk across the back yard once more and cuddle Mama on the love seat and sing “I Love You a Bushel and a Peck” with her. I want to hug Daddy and ask him for stories of his childhood and flip open the Reader’s Digest Songbook and sing whatever songs we open up to, whether we know them or not.
I leave our living room and go sit at my desk. Maybe reading my Bible will help. The Psalms are always a comfort. My husband comes in shortly after. “Are you ok?” he asks.
“Kind of… Maybe.”
“Kind of? Maybe? And now you’re crying…Did I do something wrong? Forget something?” I think of the beautiful bouquet of flowers and the sweet card filled with loving words he’s already given me.
“No, you did everything right. I think I’m missing Mom and Dad. Remember how emotional I was last year? Is this how special days are going to be from now on?”
“No,” he answers with confidence. ” The emotions will change more into sweet memories.”
I’m choosing to believe him. And I know the missing won’t go on forever. Someday we will be together again, because of the saving love of Jesus, and our faith in Him. We will be together again and for eternity.
And meanwhile, though they do stir my emotions, I know I’m blessed to have all the loving memories. They echo around me. They whisper to me in the songs of the crickets and birds. They touch me in the gentle breezes that blow through the wafting curtains.