I come from a family with a vivid imagination. I guess that is part of being storytellers. You have to have an active imagination to spin a tale worth hearing. No, I did not have imaginary friends when I was younger but I did write creatively. I dreamed all the dreams young girls dreamed. I wanted to be a famous singer, buy my mom a baby blue Lincoln convertible, I dreamed of surfing the pipeline in Hawaii, I dreamed of Communist take-overs during the Cuban Missle crisis, but my biggest imaginative acts....dealt with my mom. When I wanted to do something.....or did something wrong.....I would have the conversation with my mom in my head prior to asking or telling her whatever I had to tell her. Most of the time I imagined it going the wrong way....and I would get home and not ask at all. In my imagination my mom was this oge whose whole purpose in life was to make my life miserable. In my imagination....she was the queen of this. In reality....my mom was the mom everyone wanted to hang out with at my house. My mom took my children on field trips and enthralled them with learning in a fun way.
My mom made sure I saw the stars during the entire year at the Planetarium, she took me to the zoo, she taught me about flowers and orchids, she showed me how to grow herbs, she gave me a love for growing things, she took me to the movies, she took me to concerts, she took me to historical places....she made sure I knew the state of Florida well. I have seen Wikiwatchee, Silver Springs, Nautical museums, Cape Canaveral launches, Norton Art Gallery art....you name it....I saw it. Sometimes I went kicking and screaming (not literally) because my friends were going to amusement parks....but then....there was the beach.
We lived near it....and my mom loved it. She made sure I did too. There is not many things I love as much as the feel of the sun on my skin and the smell of the salt/surf, and the feel of the breeze....except maybe....the beach right before a storm. She made sure I saw that too. We would run over to the beach as the squalls of a hurricane began pelting the earth with rain. There was something about the wildness of the wind and surf that made us both very peaceful. While most of my friends grew up wanting to be teachers, doctors, nurses and the like. I grew up wanting to be a Social worker....and work with the migrants who came and harvested the oranges or sugar cane. I wanted to be a mother. I guess....I wanted to be my mom....even though if you had asked me then I would have told you that was a lie. My mom was the Leave It To Beaver mom...June Cleaver.
She was a stay at home mom who made cookies, cleaned, shopped (she actually had grocery store dresses she wore when she did this), she would take a job around Christmas to have extra spending money. I am not saying that she was perfect....she was a tough mom....especially after the death of my brother. We were not rich....I lived on the wrong side of the tracks....but we were rich...in love and God. I had everything I ever needed. The key word here is needed. I had some of the things I wanted. I don't ever remember doing without.....for necessities. My mom sewed....so most of my clothes were homemade (they bore little tags that said, "Handmade with love by Wilma...and I hated that), I had some amazing outfits(and some that came from floor scraps at Avondale mills that had stains on them...she would put a pocket or applique over them to hide the spot)
(my mom made every outfit I have on)
....and so did my Barbie(I had some amazing clothes for her made by my Aunt MaeBelle and momma).....but I was a child...and did not understand....I wanted store bought. I had to become an adult/mother to finally grasp the love and care that went into this. I would wear my homemade clothes and imagine that my outfits came from Burdines....where Villager dresses were sold. Yep...it was
just my imagination....once again....running away with me. My life was far from idyllic. My mom had a breakdown when my brother died. On the outside for the world to see....my life was perfect.....but within the walls with just my mom....life was very imperfect....but once again....my imagination ran wild. I took all the wonderful traits from my friends moms....and build them into my mom...so nobody would know. My daughter was in her twenties before she actually saw my mom turn from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde and it frightened her. I have to laugh now...because as Kat came unglued with the display....she told me that she did not know how I managed not to be an alcoholic or drug addict. I have wondered that same thing myself. I guess God watches out for his tiniest of sheep....and if they are lucky....they develop vivid imaginations. There is no book that comes with child rearing...no "How-To" manual....it is all done by trial and error. Sometimes we are spot on....other times we are off the course. I was not a perfect mom.....but I was a mom with a vivid imagination....and I believed if you can dream it...you can achieve it. I have three very successful(though not always perfect) children today that I am extremely proud of......and that my dear readers is reality....not my imagination running wild. That is a Fact! Thanks for letting me ramble. Have a blessed day!
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