Pop!

One of the Boy(s) favorite things to do is to go to the 'mingo' store (Ethan's curious name for a convenience store.) $3 buckaroos can buy happiness in the form of strawberry pop and a simple piece of candy. Wy Wy goes for chocolate (like me, he digs Mr. Goodbar.) Ethan usually goes for an elaborate piece of candy, that has more than one part. He's intrigued as much by the packaging as the sweetness inside.

Perhaps I'm delusional, but I truly believe that the Boy(s) get more enjoyment out of a trip to the 'mingo' store than they did, or do, with all the booty they got for Christmas. Sure, if you asked them, if they had a choice between the Thomas and Bertie's Race train track or DinoAdventure (their favorite gifts) or going to get a strawberry pop at the 'mingo' store with Dad, they'd probably choose, what appears to be the bigger prize. At least in the here and now. But, in that distant, somewhat scary, who knows what is going to happen, Buck Rogers future, what will they pick? What will they remember?

One of my fondest, most cherished memories was sitting on my Mom's lap, her chewing gum and blowing bubbles for me to pop. This memory is so shrouded in the past, I'm unclear on which parts are actually real, and what parts I've fabricated. I know that I was very young at the time, actually, not much older than Ethan is now. I know this based on the place (the old house on Garfield Street) and the circumstances (Dad not being around at night, because he was still working shift work at the steel mill.) Yet, through the haze of time I can still see the two of us, me and my Mom, in that ugly La-Z-boy chair. Her blowing bubble after bubble for me to pop. I can hear my laugh. See her smile. The two of us sharing such a sweet, tender moment. A moment that encapsulates all that Mom was and is, to me.

Memories are funny. The fact that I remember that one over all the other wonderful things about my Mom. Still, it is the one that most often comes back to me, the one I remember nearly everytime I hear my Boy(s) laugh, when we do something silly, or simple, like going to the damn 'mingo' store.

Until I BLOG again...FUCK cancer!