She spots Venus, low on the horizon above a thin sliver of moon. Her memory is very selective now, but she tells me with certainty, “That is Venus. It’s a planet, not a star.”
What an emotional story, Sharron. I would’ve given anything to have been able to have that kind of conversation with my mom near the end. But there was too much between us.
I think I know that Red Lion. I always stayed at the Embassy Suites in Milpitas when I traveled to SJ for business. Or I’d stay at the Doubletree in Dublin, which ain’t there no more.
So nice to be able to sit out like that and talk to each other! I like how you could smell the "fishy, salt-laden air" and know you were almost home. I could smell it, also.
"It's a planet, not a star." I don't know why that line strikes me so emotionally. It's almost like a metaphor for a simple life, well led. This is a great memoir, Sharron.
That would be so cool. There do not appear to be any other gardeners in town. Can't even get them to come for tea and just look. There is certainly enough doing for two people. )))
That's so beautiful. My mother was a week past her 96th birthday when she passed. There's nothing like the memories of sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee while she told me stories about the old days. Life is made up of memories, and the ones we hold dearest will comfort us when we need them most.
Yes, it is true, Ben. Remembering all the time we spent telling stories to each other, both true ones and made up ones that blurred together, well... it helps to lessen the burden of regrets I also carry. Which is good!
I got a little choked up reading this one. The bit where you said, “We did all right. We had a great life” hit me hard. I’m sure you hold these memories close to your heart, Sharron. Thank you for sharing with us and letting us in. This was such a moving piece.
Your opinion of my writing means so much to me Justin, as I really admire your talent. You always seem to find the heart of what I am trying to say. Thank you.
Thank you Leanna, for reading my story and for becoming a new subscriber at🍁Leaves. You are very welcome. Since you liked the little tale about my mother, you might check out the Katy Memoir. https://sharronbassano.substack.com/s/the-katy-memoir
I have been setting down little stories about my mother - age 4 through 96 - for about a year. She was a remarkable woman - courageous and tenacious.
Thank you Al, for always dropping in over here at 🍁Leaves. I know some of my stories are silly, but a few do hit the mark. I thought you would appreciate this one.
Life writes the best stories because they aren't just stories. Wonderful prose, deep and humorous, Sharron. Thank you for sharing this precious piece of memory.
Sharron, this is such a moving, soul-stirring post - it's brought tears to my eyes. Actually, it's one of my favourites of all your posts. What special, special memories - and what a gorgeous thing to do, to chat about who those people might be and what their lives are like. You have opened windows onto the world. Sending love.
I remember things about my mom at the most unusual times. Washing dishes, folding a towel, deadheading an iris, opening a bottle of shampoo. Our mothers hide in the deepest recesses of our minds long after they leave this earth. I am glad you liked this one, Rebecca. I am always delighted when I see your posts in my inbox. I read them first.
It's often the smallest things that are the most evocative, isn't it?
Thank you for such a very kind comment about my own posts, Sharron - I'm ever so touched. 😘 I'm delighted that we've connected on Substack with our writing.
Wow, Sharron. This story is so poignant. Love the conversation and banter between mother and daughter. Both sound like exceptional souls. Thank you for posting!
Loved this Sharron, I could picture the two of you talking together.
Thanks, Scott. I sure do miss our talks.
What an emotional story, Sharron. I would’ve given anything to have been able to have that kind of conversation with my mom near the end. But there was too much between us.
I think I know that Red Lion. I always stayed at the Embassy Suites in Milpitas when I traveled to SJ for business. Or I’d stay at the Doubletree in Dublin, which ain’t there no more.
Are you a Californian?
Up until 4 years ago! Born and raised in L.A.
NEver met her in person, but I know I liked her from the beginning. ))
She would have been fascinated with all the varied "pies" your fingers are in. She'd have dropped by every day to help you in your garden.
Such a simple and lovely ritual, Sharron. You are truly blessed to have these memories. Thank you for sharing it.
Thanks for reading it Heather! I never know if these very personal stories will resonate with others. They are meaningful moments for me, in any case.
That's all that really matters.
I really enjoyed how you told this memory through the conversation between you and your mother.
Oh, simply precious, Sharron!
Thank you for reading these memories, Linda. Mom and I were very close, as you know.
So nice to be able to sit out like that and talk to each other! I like how you could smell the "fishy, salt-laden air" and know you were almost home. I could smell it, also.
Thank you, James Ron, for your comment. I always appreciate your thoughts. You and I have similar values, I think.
"It's a planet, not a star." I don't know why that line strikes me so emotionally. It's almost like a metaphor for a simple life, well led. This is a great memoir, Sharron.
Thank you, Jim. She was a fine old companion. She taught me a lot... and not just about airplane lights and stars...
That would be so cool. There do not appear to be any other gardeners in town. Can't even get them to come for tea and just look. There is certainly enough doing for two people. )))
More like five people, if you ask me. Full time!
That's so beautiful. My mother was a week past her 96th birthday when she passed. There's nothing like the memories of sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee while she told me stories about the old days. Life is made up of memories, and the ones we hold dearest will comfort us when we need them most.
Yes, it is true, Ben. Remembering all the time we spent telling stories to each other, both true ones and made up ones that blurred together, well... it helps to lessen the burden of regrets I also carry. Which is good!
I got a little choked up reading this one. The bit where you said, “We did all right. We had a great life” hit me hard. I’m sure you hold these memories close to your heart, Sharron. Thank you for sharing with us and letting us in. This was such a moving piece.
Your opinion of my writing means so much to me Justin, as I really admire your talent. You always seem to find the heart of what I am trying to say. Thank you.
What a beautiful story!
Thank you Leanna, for reading my story and for becoming a new subscriber at🍁Leaves. You are very welcome. Since you liked the little tale about my mother, you might check out the Katy Memoir. https://sharronbassano.substack.com/s/the-katy-memoir
I have been setting down little stories about my mother - age 4 through 96 - for about a year. She was a remarkable woman - courageous and tenacious.
Beautiful story, Sharron. Thanks.
Thank you Al, for always dropping in over here at 🍁Leaves. I know some of my stories are silly, but a few do hit the mark. I thought you would appreciate this one.
Life writes the best stories because they aren't just stories. Wonderful prose, deep and humorous, Sharron. Thank you for sharing this precious piece of memory.
Deep. Humorous. You are so generous. Those words are music to my ears. Thank you for making my day, Alexander.
Sharron, this is such a moving, soul-stirring post - it's brought tears to my eyes. Actually, it's one of my favourites of all your posts. What special, special memories - and what a gorgeous thing to do, to chat about who those people might be and what their lives are like. You have opened windows onto the world. Sending love.
I remember things about my mom at the most unusual times. Washing dishes, folding a towel, deadheading an iris, opening a bottle of shampoo. Our mothers hide in the deepest recesses of our minds long after they leave this earth. I am glad you liked this one, Rebecca. I am always delighted when I see your posts in my inbox. I read them first.
It's often the smallest things that are the most evocative, isn't it?
Thank you for such a very kind comment about my own posts, Sharron - I'm ever so touched. 😘 I'm delighted that we've connected on Substack with our writing.
I always open the car window at the hwy 17 summit.
There is nothing else like it
You know what I mean, then, Penny A fresh breath of welcome home.
Wow, Sharron. This story is so poignant. Love the conversation and banter between mother and daughter. Both sound like exceptional souls. Thank you for posting!
We were very close. She is still very much in my head and stories pop up every day. I am glad when one hits the mark. Thank you.