Lot's Wife
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
(7:03am) There was severe weather in the forecast that morning – perhaps tornadoes, to Joe’s and Frances’ interested alarm. The rain began pounding quite steadily by 10:30 in the morning, with bits of thunder, while Collette finished up writing and German with Joe and Rose. Meanwhile, she debated whether to bring pumpkin bread (her preference) or strawberry pretzel jello salad to Texas, which would not travel as easily.
And on Monday, Carrie had once again insisted that her birthday was not to be celebrated. She claimed that any birthday presents she might receive for the said occasion, would be handed over to charity. And thus would pass Carrie’s birthday. Although she received another great card from Grandma Snicketts on Tuesday , which read:
“Mom and Dad say you’re
keeping long hours. Get your
sleep during the fly season
and maybe you need a flu
shot with all the people you
come in contact with during
the season. Love Grandma Snicketts”
Monday evening, before going over to the Silverspoon’s, Mom had left a thick potato soup and biscuits for Dad and all the kids at home, while she had Frances at swimming lessons.
“Eeeeew!” Carrie about gagged, taking her first bite. “Salt!”
They all looked at each other and took a bite. The reactions were similar. Only Dad continued eating.
“It’s like Lot’s wife in there. Sodom and Gomorrah all over again,” Carrie crowed, laughing.
When Dad later said he was heading downstairs to run, after having eaten three bowls, Carrie told him, plainly, “Dad, you’ll be sweating so much salt, there will be stalagmites of salt on the treadmill.”
Indeed, even Mom had to admit it was overly flavored of salt, as she had accidentally poured in too much bouillon, although it smelled delicious. Until she admitted that she had been the cause of the salt outbreak, Collette thought it might have been Frances who walked by with the salt shaker and added to the soup when no one was looking, such was his great love of salt.
The rest of the evening was spent with Denae and the boys. Apparently Theodore and Kitts had both forgotten the event. But OLeif and Collette brought flowers and placed them in a vase for her while they gathered for pizza, a crunchy salad of green onions, dressing, greens, and bacon, and iced tea. There was a viewing of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” afterwards, which Denae loved, thankfully.
It was earlier that morning that she had been reading Mercy’s new blog, and came across her latest post:
“This week has been a few of the “holiday firsts” without Mom. I baked a whole pumpkin. And it turned out okay! I was amazed. Mom was so good about baking fresh pumpkin every year for pie, and we’d always take some to the neighbors and bring one over to the McDonald’s for Thanksgiving— oh, it was good stuff. And she’d toast the pumpkin seeds for us to munch and nibble on. They never stayed around too long.
“So I accomplished all that this past week! And cried a lot. My two pies are in the oven now, we’ll see how they turn out. I guess enough cool whip can make up for anything. The pie batter (if that’s what you call the stuff) was splattering everywhere! I thought, ‘This never happened when Mom did it!?! Oh my gosh! My pie’s alive!!’
“I know it may seem crazy, doing the traditional things that Mom did, even though she’ll never be here again to do them– but I almost have to. It’s like purposefully putting myself through the pain I know I’ll have to go through anyway, but doing it in such a way that heals in the process. Not that I’ll ever be able to take Mom’s place in the kitchen, or as Christmas Eve Hostess, or as the most incredible, revered, smart, fun, teacher-mom woman of the Cloud house… I guess my desire is simply to identify with the life of her whom I loved so much. While it’s difficult for me to go to her grave, it’s easier (albeit more painful) to stay in her kitchen and do the things she did. But here I meet my good memories instead of the sick and insanely awful memories that haunt my mind. Here I remember her as my mom and best friend. Here I hurt the most, because I come face to face with the enormity of my loss. I admit I’m scared to death of the holidays, particularly Christmas. But I have a feeling that God is going to reach down in the pain and do some much-needed healing in my life– in more ways and areas than one. I just cringe at the thought of the pain.
“Anyway, if I end up burning the pie crust, I’ll know she’s watching and laughing. : ) Like mother, like daughter.”
That afternoon, Mom and Collette drove over to Trader Joe’s as the mid-November winds began to whip and gray skies blew overhead. They found a good deal of goodies, including sparkling cranberry and blueberry juice for Carrie’s birthday, and bags of fresh soft pizza dough (one of garlic and basil), butternut squash soup, and other tasties.