As I pack up my stuff tonight, I cannot help but think of my mother. I miss her so much! Every box I pack triggers a memory of her. Each time I debate whether to toss or keep an item I wish I could pick up the phone and ask her what she thinks.
But Mami is no longer here with me. I have to decide things for myself. I hate that sometimes. It would bring me great comfort to know if she is proud of me, if she approves all of my decisions.
I wonder what she would think of my big move to Italy. I am sure she would be very excited for me. She would probably cheer me on while also giving me practical advice about being safe while I travel.
“Ten cuidado,” I imagine her saying while nagging me on the phone. This would most certainly cause me to roll my eyes and tell her that I’m old enough to take care of myself.
I almost laugh when I think of this because I wish I could still share ordinary moments like these with her.
What I miss the most about my mom is being able to pick up the phone and dial her number. Mami was always on the phone talking to some distant friend or relative. She loved socializing and feeling involved in people’s lives. I guess I take after her.
As I look across my nightstand I see her now. There she is with a phone in her hand and a big smile on her face. I wonder who she is talking to. She looks so happy and relaxed.
I keep her “phone call” picture in a small frame shaped like a flower. My mother loved flowers (hence my name) so I find the frame fits her personality. Her beautiful face lights up the silvery pink petals that encase the photo, it’s almost as she she were bringing them to life. Her smile was always so vibrant. God, how I miss seeing her smile.
I can’t believe that photo was taken 10 years ago when I lived in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
During my time as a student at the University of Puerto Rico, my mother would make a point to come see me every other weekend. We would drive around San Juan and go food shopping or hang out at the mall.
Oh, gone are those days…
As I sit in my half-empty apartment in Miami Beach all I have are memories. That’s okay with me. At least I got to enjoy the love and warmth of a mother as great as mine was.
“Be adventurous! Be courageous!” she would always say to me.
Mami, I don’t know how to be any other way…I love you!