Peanut Butter and Tetanus Shots

Oh, if I could only contribute to this blog as much as I want to. Alas, there is no time.

So, I have to get on here when I get the chance, sneaking away a few moments to throw some words out into cyberspace. If only I could do this daily, as a sort of meditation. If only.

It's my mom, again. She's always right there, on the tip of my tongue, at the forefront of my mind, coming and going each and every day. It doesn't take much to bring me back to her.

Today it was peanut butter sandwiches and tetanus shots.

You see, she was the one who thought of the brilliant solution for her youngest son, who happened to dislike all flavors of jelly, to continue consuming that which he adores - peanut butter. Aside from eating it raw off the spoon (which I have done my fair share of times), she devised a way I could still eat it on bread without it sticking to the roof of my mouth.

Butter. That's right, add butter. Brilliant, I know. That was my mom. And, to this day, I slap butter on to a fresh piece of toast (well, okay, mostly half-toasted bread, at most), top it with peanut butter, and close my eyes with enjoyment. And every time I do this, I think of her.

And...tetanus shots. Yes, I need to know when my last tetanus shot was. And, of course, I don't. This question always falls into the category of information for which I called my mother. She had all of this information in her home, in her head, or some combination of both. She knew the random details of her kids' lives. She even knew things about us we would never know.

So I scramble in my room, searching long-forgotten corners for the elusive piece of paper which holds this unknown date, all the time remembering Mom. Wishing I could call her.

She's always right there, waiting to be triggered again.

I don't think I would have it any other way.