Haunting.

Bits from my Mom keep popping up. It is a bittersweet surprise. I found a few boxes of her things in my attic, boxes I put off going through for years until the pain dulled a bit. One box contained her Brownie and Girl Scout uniforms, her first walking shoes and a few crafts she made. Another was filled with scrapbooks of cards and childhood photos, class reunion rosters and all her grade school report cards. The last box held every birthday, Mother's day, anniversary card and little note her children ever gave her. I didn't know she treasured those cards so dearly and now I wish I would have put more thought into picking out the perfect card for each occasion. While thumbing through her favorite trusty cookbook the other night the spine opened easily to a page containing her recipe for Pumpkin Pie (it was the best!). My heart always leaps and falls whenever I come across her Calligraphy handwriting. Immediately I think she has left me a note and I've now just found it. Love washes over me but then reason blows over and I realize the truth. I fear one of these days there will be no new surprises. For no new written notes or recipes have been created and all these little treasures, proof of her existence, have already been found.