maggie will always know best
A few years ago (wow, quite a few years ago, now: 1998? something like that?) my mom gave me an MCI Prepaid Phone Card to keep in my car “just in case”. She most likely got it at Costco.. a shrink wrapped credit card-like dealie that had 575 minutes that you could use to call anywhere from any phone. I indulged her by keeping it in the cars I drove, while I mentally rolled my eyes at her utter mom-ness. “Just in case”, mom? Please. I’m a grown woman!
Recently, I organized my glove compartment (as encounters with the California Highway Patrol force me to scramble for my insurance and registration cards on a regular basis). I compiled a Martha-worthy folder of pertinent car information, a What to Do if You’re Stopped by the Police booklet from the ACLU, a bit of cash, pen, Shout Wipes, and — yes — the MCI Phone Card.
Last Wednesday, the first day of work after my long and boggling vacation, I rushed out of my house like the jet-lagged wretch that I was. On the way, my ancient car gave up its tenuous grasp on life and failed, forever, in Montecito (a proper eulogy will appear in a later post).
But the gist here is that I had a lot of extremely urgent phone calls to make. And that I forgot my cell phone. And that I was never more grateful for my mom’s “I must keep my children SAFE!” instinct as I ripped open the shrink wrap and spent the bejesus out of those gorgeous, life-giving minutes.
Approaching the fourth anniversary of my mother’s death, I savor these moments when direct evidence of her existence brings her towards me, just for a tiny moment, before she continues to recede and darken and fade from view.
I imagine her beaming at the fact that she helped to keep her youngest child safe, applauding mine and her own sensibleness. Of course, she’d be cringing at the notion that I cooked my car, but, well, perhaps I’m not the independent adult I thought I was — perhaps I still need my mommy in every way.
Mom, thank you for this and all the many other things, visible and not, that you did (and continue to do) for me. And I promise I’ll put a new calling card in the glovebox and to put fresh water in the earthquake kits. I love you always.
The phone card totally was a message planted in the past, intended for the future, don’t you think?
Without a doubt….
A very tender post. You’ve got a mother’s hug in a little plastic card…
This is beautiful. I love that it was still in the shrinkwrap and that you spent time organizing your glovebox. And I love your Mom.
DP
Such reminders are so incredible precious. I was both moved and amused amused by reading your story, Becky. Your mother, proving her “motherness” even now! I guess we bring our mothers with us – they’re in our minds and hearts and spines through all our lives – plastic cards or not. Thank you for sharing the story, my friend.
I love this story! I too had a “hug from beyond” a couple years ago when both my husband and I lost our jobs from the same company when they closed down. As we sat devastated and looking at each other, an unknown insurance policy from my father surfaced – who has passed away 16 years earlier. It gave us breathing room for about four months. Never think they stop caring. Big hugs Becky!
Absolutely–that’s lovely.
P.S. Sorry about your vehicle.
I don’t comment here, well, ever really, but I think about this story often. I find it incredibly comforting, and I hope you have had more of these moments.
Kinsey! Thank you for delurking and for the nice words. I’m very pleased you read my blog — whoever you are!