I Say Hello to My Mother Every Day

Summary

The author experiences a profound connection with their late mother Mimi, recognizing her features in their own reflection, laughter, and perspective, and feels her presence during significant moments and travels.

Abstract

The text is a personal reflection on the author's intimate bond with their mother Mimi, which persists beyond her physical passing. The author sees Mimi's characteristics in their own appearance, particularly when looking in the mirror, and feels her spirit in their laughter and sense of humor. Engaging in gardening, the author adopts Mimi's focused demeanor, and while exploring the world, especially in Africa, they sense Mimi's presence as if she's experiencing it alongside them. The author cherishes these moments of unity with their mother, sharing the beauty of nature and wildlife, and acknowledges these shared experiences as a gift to Mimi, fulfilling her unfulfilled desires in life.

Opinions

The author believes their mother Mimi lives on through them, influencing their physical appearance, emotions, and actions.
Mimi's laughter and humor are vividly remembered and felt by the author, suggesting a strong appreciation for her spirited personality.
The author values the connection with their mother during moments of solitude and introspection, such as when gardening or observing wildlife.
There is a sense of fulfillment and continuity for the author in being able to share experiences with Mimi that she was unable to have during her lifetime.
The author's tone conveys a deep love and respect for Mimi, indicating that her legacy continues to shape the author's worldview and emotional experiences.

A treatise to Mimi, who lives on inside me

When I walk into my bathroom, I see my mother in the mirror. Her lopsided smile, her green eyes. Her puckish grin.

The older I get, the more I see her carved into the changing topography of my face.

When I find myself in hysterics, my mother Mimi rises up from my diaphragm. Her body-shaking horse laugh, her hilarity, her badass, off-color sense of humor.

When I pull weeds from my garden, I assume Mimi’s position: ass pointing skyward, face in deep concentration, willing the flowers to grow as I clear a path.

When I look at the world, I see with my mother’s eyes. She has come with me to Africa many times, a feat she couldn’t manage in life. As I sit a fine horse as she once did as a young woman, far younger than I am now, I speak to my mother. She sees what I see. She is my eyes.

Elephants in Central Kenya, from horse back Julia Hubbel

“See,” I say to her as we gaze, mother and daugther as one, at the elephant, the lion, the cheetah. “See? Now you know. This is my gift to you.”

“Yes,” my mother says. “Now I see.”

I can feel her smiling.