The Saturday Bed

Our journey together began on a bed in the hallway of a hospital bed in Bisbee, Arizona. Mama's babies always came fast, and I was no exception. I like to think I was extra anxious to meet her. Her good friend and nurse, Margaret Huish was the only person available to attend my birth. I have only one newborn picture that I've ever seen. Taken by my dad through the glass window of the infant nursery. He always told me what a pretty baby I was. I never believed him. Looking at my siblings baby pictures, perfectly round cherubs with long curly locks and lashes and large round eyes for

days, I was more on the petite scrawny side, with pointy parts rather than the round baby softness of them. Nevertheless, Daddy insisted and so I chose to wrap myself up in the comfort of the fact that he never ever would lie to me and so it must be true.

My memories go so far back that my earliest memory is a mere flash. I only can feel that I am sitting on Mama's lap in the front passenger seat of the car. I can see Daddy's hands on the steering wheel. There is snow outside all the car windows and the sun is shining brightly and reflecting off the snow making it nearly blinding. Mama is struggling with me to put the attached mitten portion of my snow-suit up and over my fingers. That's all. It's just a mere moment. Several years later when Mama and I were going through a large box of baby's and children's clothes she had kept through the years, I pulled up that old powder blue corduroy snow-suit. The size on the label was for a 12 month old.

I close my eyes. 1965, 1966, 1967....recalling the moments. The experiences. The laughter. The tears. The arguing. The crying. The apologies. The kisses. The hugs. The scents. The sicknesses. The struggles. The triumphs. The loud gatherings. The quiet and sometimes lonely times. The countless books. The concerts and performances. And always, always so much music. Classical, Rock and Roll, Hawaiian, Native American, The Chieftains. Always played at levels deemed too loud by most. But then we are probably a family deemed a bit too loud by most.

Today I sit by my mother's hospital bed. My desire is to curl up next to her. The last time we slept in bed next to each other was the night Daddy passed away. The funeral home had taken away his body and she asked me if I would sleep with her. She hadn't slept alone without him for over fifty years. Since she was a seventeen year old starry-eyed girl. We crawled into their full-sized bed (yes full-sized) they had shared for all their life together. The bed that no matter the events of the day, good or bad they were spooned right up next to each other. The bed that only on Saturday mornings were my little brother and I permitted to come racing into their room and climb in with them while they read the newspaper. Otherwise the bedroom door was locked to us children. Their passion for each other is strong.

I sit next to my mother's hospital bed. The oxygen forcing air into her pneumonia-filled lungs. Only long enough now for the last few out-of-town children and grand-children to come give her love and breathe her in one more time until it is farewell for now.

As the oxygen pushes air into her, I feel like my own oxygen is being sucked away. Like I can't catch a full breath. Because when I breathe too deeply I am completely overcome with so many tears. And when that kind of crying happens, really all you want is your Mama or your Daddy to fix it. I want Mama to shush me and tell me it's going to be okay. And I want Daddy to put a cool wet wash-cloth over my tear-stained face.

There have been times in my life that Mama has literally breathed life back into me. Times when my despair was so deep, I thought I would fall into an abyss and never find my way back. I was seventeen. She saw me lying on my bed in such deep despair. She lay next to me and breathed life back into me. Whispering words into my ear that I didn't comprehend at the time but made me know that I would be okay. I would survive. I would thrive.

My time on the "Saturday Bed" is ending. It's time for me to get off the bed and let my parents have their privacy again for a while. Just for a while. Because I'm a stubborn little kid. I know the rules, but I'll be waiting in the hallway for Saturday to roll around again. I'll knock on their door and they'll let me climb in right between them. Right where I belong. Meanwhile Albert their first-born get them all to himself for a while. He's been loving and patient. So I can be too. It's not goodbye. It's just farewell for now.