What About Mary?

Well, we have ceremonially set my Mom free and now I am wondering where she is. Where is that part of her that was uniquely 'Mary'? Where is the woman who was a watercolorist and mother...the woman who posted herself behind me, arms crossed over her chest, while I practiced the piano as a young girl, because I was such a shirker. Where is the woman who arose at 5:30 a.m. every morning the winter I was sixteen, so she could first feed and then chauffeur me to driving lessons.

Where is the woman who taught me how to make pie dough and sew my own clothing and told me never to wear black. Where is the woman who disapproved of all my boyfriends save the young Dave Neale; the woman who suffered terribly with migraine headaches and could often be cranky, but who never failed to put a wonderful dinner on the table.

I remember once when I was young - only single digits - she sent me to the drugstore on Skyline lane in Idaho Falls to get her some aspirin for yet another headache. Loving her as much as only a small daughter can, and wanting to provide as much relief for her as I could, I chose the hugest bottle of aspirin I saw. It was probably 500 or 1000; definitely a size I have not seen again in recent memory. I carried it triumphantly to the counter and told the cashier to put it on my Dad's account. When I arrived home, tiptoed into her darkened bedroom and and gently handed her the bottle, she seemed offended and annoyed that I had purchased so much aspirin.

Where is this woman who, in later years, gradually, gradually became the child - forcing me to become the adult. I can look back now and see that is has been many years since Mary was the real Mary we all knew and loved. Where did she go, and more to the point, when exactly did she cease to be Mary?