Tag Archives: Signs of you

A Marshmallow World

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Living in Marshmallow World in Redwood Meadows

Living in Marshmallow World in Redwood Meadows

January 29, 2017

 

Dear Will,

 

Well, true to Alberta (and Fernie form) its now chinooking outside and a melt is underway. When I walked Finn yesterday afternoon careful to avoid the puddles and the ice lurking beneath them I was remembering the marshmallow world that blanketed us just weeks ago. Large tufts of snow on branches and trees, on mailboxes and fence posts and anywhere that allowed a flat space for snow to accumulate I was filled with thoughts of you. The freezing temperatures brought “Christmas card snow” – you know, the kind that falls straight down with no wind to swirl it around or blow it off all the places that marked how deep and substantial that Willy blanket really was. Though cold enough to freeze my fingers and toes I couldn’t help but take in the beauty of the snowfall and how it formed marshmallow sculptures wherever it was possible. All of that snow and the beauty it created is so you.

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Taking in that marshmallow world made me think of how much you loved marshmallows. Your love of those blobs of pure sugar started with the small ones in a cup of hot chocolate and in my weak moments of motherhood how I’d offer them to you in a little bowl with raisins and/or cheerios. When I’d catch you with your little hand in the marshmallow bag I knew it was time to move the bag to a higher shelf in the pantry… sometimes behind cereal boxes so you couldn’t find them. After a bit of a battle with the little ones you finally gave up or perhaps the right way to say it was that you outgrew the little ones and grew into the large ones. And so began the world of making S’mores and roasting marshmallows over a fire on a stick.

 

fullsizerenderLike your brothers and what seems is a right of passage for all kids you learned the art of roasting the perfect marshmallow after many were sacrificed to the fire and if they didn’t fall off the stick into the fire you’d offer the black crispy blobs that you’d have to blow flames off of to Dad or me thinking that adults liked to eat these black ashes that were clearly not marshmallows anymore.

 

OH, and then began the “Marshmallow Science” and where I had to draw a line in the sand and prohibit marshmallows going into the microwave. First Ben and then you. But as the little brother and true to your personality you had to have the last word and so the marshmallow science continued when I wasn’t home. However, I’d find the evidence… You guys seemed to get such pleasure putting a marshmallow on a plate and into the microwave watching the marshmallow puff up to at least 10x its original size. I remember watching your eyeballs grow wider and wider at the sheer joy of watching it grow. Then you guys would take it out of the microwave and put the plate out in the snow or into the freezer depending on the season. It would cool and then you’d try to eat it. Other than all the sugary goo (!) it seemed rather harmless … that is until it came time to wash the plate and that seemed to fall into my pile of things to do.

Marshmallow Science and the mess that ensued...

Marshmallow Science and the mess that ensued…

It was then that I remember clearly having to put a stop to the marshmallow science because it was near impossible to wash the residue off of the plates without a heavy duty scraping tool. To this day I’m not certain that this type of tool falls under the category of a kitchen utensil. It was at this point that I believe your love of marshmallows stopped.

 

Now when I see marshmallow snow I am reminded of your love affair with marshmallows and how much enjoyment they brought you. I smile now remembering what began as a little morsel of sugary goodness in a bowl when you were a toddler to the fiery blob of sugar on a stick that resulted in black, crispy blobs of ash to the perfect marshmallow in a s’more and to the ever popular (aka EVIL) marshmallow science that I had to put an end to. I’ll bet, just to have the last word, you’re up there making marshmallow science where no one can stop you and that when you bestow upon us down here on earth a beautiful marshmallow world of snow that you are laughing your head off up there. Of course, you are.

 

I miss you so much, Will, and love you beyond everything and anything. Bigger than a bus full of marshmallows in a snowy marshmallow world.

 

 

 

Momxo

 

 

 

Thank God For Pockets

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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Dear Will,
This summer has been full of thoughts and memories of you. Your little “signs” are abundant and when I think about them I can’t help but smile. It’s crazy how many heart shaped rocks I have found and collected this summer; my pockets bursting each time I arrive back home after a doggie walk with Finn or a bike ride to the river. On our vacation in Maui the heart shaped pieces of coral would, of course, find their way to the pockets of my beach tote and at the end of each day I’d add the coral hearts to the growing line down the middle of the table where we’d eat dinner by candlelight. Me and Dad and you. Wherever I was, it seemed I only had to look down and there were heart shaped signs of you at my feet.

Holy cow, Will, I’ve quite a collection and when I empty my bursting pockets I am reminded of the things I’d find in your pockets while sorting laundry. Oh boy, there were Little Lego people and magnets, quarters and loonies that you’d find between the couch cushions where dad would often snooze (“searching” the couch was your cash cow!). I’d find fuzz balls and bits of rolled plasticine, erasers and lint covered candy and the occasional bottle cap or a torn piece of scrap paper with a friend’s phone number written on it so you could call them for a play date. All the random little treasures that were important for you to keep at the time found a safe place in your pockets. Just like my rocks.

You, Kathleen and Kale on the beach in Montana

While in Montana I was reminded of the many trips you and Kathleen would make in the golf cart to the store for Laffy Taffy and the iced tea cans you and Kale were collecting one summer. All the sand hill adventures are etched in my mind too — when you and your friends would scurry up the sand hills, rest for a minute or 5 seconds and then run full tilt or barefoot ski back down the hill and into the lake.

Parker, You and Kale – Mud Monsters

All the fun you had with Kale and Parker covering yourselves from eyeball to toe with mud and clay, swimming, building driftwood forts and how during your last summer you’d fallen in love with playing volleyball on the beach with the big kids and adults. Some of those memories still bring me to tears.  

I’m back in Fernie now where there are memories of you all over the place. The ski hill, the ski shops that become bicycle shops in the summer, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory where you had a preferred customer card from all the candy apples you bought (thanks to all the money you’d find in the couch?). Watching ski movies with Josh and how you loved to spend time with him and Andrea on and off your skis. I love it here, Will, because you loved this place.

Come next week I’ll return home to our Redwood home where summer memories of you will live forever . I am reluctant to look beyond next week as September 2nd would have been the beginning of your last year of high school. My heart cannot go there yet. For now I will summon and enjoy the many summer memories of you and reminisce in what was. I look forward to each and every little sign you send my way and will continue to fill my pockets with as much as I can. Thank God for pockets.

Love you, Willy. Like a bus full of pockets.

Momxo

Those Little, Blue Butterflies Get Me Every Time

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The Little Blue Butterfly

May 18, 2015

 

 

Dear Will,

 

While walking Finn down by the river this afternoon I noticed the little, blue butterflies were visiting again. I’ve missed seeing these little beauties, as these were the first I’ve seen since last summer. First there was one, then two… then three, all fluttering about in the sunshine, stopping here and there, up and down and all around — going nowhere it seemed, or certainly not in a hurry if they were. I smiled wondering if they were you… and in the same breath, of course, they were you. I slowed my pace and began to talk to them, extending my hand and then stopping to just take it all in. I asked them, “is that you, Willy? Is it you? Is it?” They continued to flutter about always coming back to where I could almost reach out and touch them. They stayed close, stopping and starting in unison as if I was leading some sort of dance.

 

For quite some time I was oblivious to anything else. Their delicate, little, blue wings so perfect and the way they’d stop and rest on a dandelion or a leaf or a blade of grass while their little wings moved as if that is how they breathed. Little ins and little outs. And then off they’d go, their wings moving so effortlessly and so quietly amongst us.

 

I needed to see those little, blue butterflies today, Will. A sign from you that you are here, that you see us and hear us and love us still. These past few days have weighed heavily on my heart and to see the weightlessness of love in the wings of a little blue butterfly instantly picked me up. I hadn’t realized until that moment just how fragile I was feeling today. For a few days, I didn’t want to open my eyes and instead closed them tight for fear that the river of tears inside of me would spill. I’d been walking with my head down instead of up, not seeing the beauty in little things…until I saw the little, blue butterflies this afternoon.

 

For the rest of my walk I longed to touch you, to see your face, to hear your voice and in the quiet of my afternoon walk I did try, but the only sight and sound was in my memory. I sighed. But I will never give up on my belief that you are here. Just a blink away. Somewhere over the rainbow. On the other side of the veil. I’ll be out again tomorrow Will, on the same river path as today. And I’ll look for you again… because those little, blue butterflies get me every time.

 

Love you, little blue. Like a bus full of those little flutterbies.

 

Momxo