Lemons

They remind me of my mom…

There are reminders that are concrete… like a Post-it note on the refrigerator…. and there are reminders that are less tangible, more ethereal…. like a cobweb that just barely grazes your hand.

Lemons have that wispy, fairy wing kind of feeling for me.

I can see lemons in the store, and they  give me a very brief feeling of warmth… A feeling that is just barely noticeable.

Sometimes it even results in a little smile.

It isn’t until I make time to really think or focus that I realize that the warmth or smile come from the pocket where my memories live. It’s the place where I keep the good stuff…

The painful stuff resides elsewhere.

This is the place where I remember the times when I was very young, when we resembled a family. 

My mom never cared much for dessert or sweet things. Instead, she loved lemons. She would keep a lemon on a cutting board in the kitchen. It would sit there all day with a sharp knife and a salt shaker. During the day she would cut off a slice of lemon, cut it in half, add just a trace of salt and eat it off of the rind. This was like a midday snack for her… And, of course, everyone thought it was very odd… Because it was!

Maybe she did it because she really loved lemons. Perhaps the lemons helped to dissipate the excess sugar of the alcohol that sustained her. Like every other truth in the world… It’s probably made up of all of that and more…

Whatever the reason… I appreciate the very gentle tap on the shoulder that reminds me to take stock of what’s in my pocket of memories…

Thinking about lemons is like finding a $20 bill in last year‘s winter coat… A little gift!

Lemons remind me of my mom 

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I’m glad you’re here💜

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