My Mom turned 85 on Wednesday, so yesterday I took her to see a Simulcast Live from the Met of Mozart’s Opera Cosi Fan Tutti. My mom still lives on her own and from what I can tell, her favorite things are family, shopping and Opera. She recently joined the Senior Citizens Center in her town, something she was reluctant to do, mom’s not really a “joiner” and I think didn’t want to see herself as “one of those old people”. But now she can take a bus every Tuesday to one of the many Malls nearby, the Senior Citizens Bus picks her up at her front door. Even though it’s not one of my favorite things to do, I’m happy to take my mom to see the Opera. Because it seems to me it’s one thing she’s held onto from her life before marriage and family. It’s a passion for her that is completely hers.
When I got home last night, Jon told me that the white Leghorn had died. I wasn’t surprised, we had seen she didn’t seem right lately. She spent a lot of time sitting while the other hens roamed around looking for bugs. This morning I cleaned out the Chicken Coop and thought of the first winter we had the white Leghorn. She surprised me by venturing out on her own during one of the first snow falls. There she was a lone white hen in the white snow. I was so taken with her adventure, I made the Yellow Hen Potholder. I haven’t seen that spirit in the white hen in a long time, now it’s the gray hen that we usually see on her own in the pasture with the sheep or hopping on Simon’s back, always the first one out of the coop in the morning.
I so admire that spirit. The one who is willing to step out of the norm, out of her life to follow a passion or desire. So I’m thinking about the white Leghorn and gray hen and I’m thinking about my 85 year old mother, who has made more changes in her life in the past couple of years than in the 50 years I’ve known her. I’m thinking of myself too and the changes I’ve made in the past 6 years and hope I’m still at it if I live to be 85.
This morning, as I was putting some daffodils in the ground that we got at the Hubbard Hall Plant Sale yesterday, I found an egg in the garden. Daffodils and eggs, birth, death, rebirth and change. Life itself.
I’m proud to have that potholder.
And I’m glad to know you have it Kim. I remember putting it aside at one of the open houses. There were a few people who tried to buy it.
Beautiful observation and understanding of reality.
What beautiful parallels, Maria — I love the way you’ve braided your mother’s story, your story, and the hens’ stories into the same sweet tale — isn’t that life, though? Love reading your blog!