“There is no one else who means to me what a sister means. No one whose mind can go back with me to the old home scenes. Who knows just how our mother looked when we were little.”
– Vintage Card
Saturday mornings started slow and lazy around our home. Mother usually cooked a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, and biscuits or chocolate and tomato gravy with her biscuits. Sometimes she would make homemade cinnamon rolls. That was an extra special treat!
Mom would play an old movie starring Shirley Temple, Cary Grant, or Doris Day. Dad preferred a classic western but he would suffer through, or disappear.
When the movie was over, cleaning day began. The cleaning list included but was not limited to dusting, including the baseboards, kitchen cabinets, and the table and chairs. Also, vacuuming, scrubbing the bathrooms, sweeping the kitchen and mopping made the cut as well.
We picked up our rooms daily, but our rooms had to be cleaned entirely on Saturdays. Nothing could be hidden or stuffed, but everything had to be in its correct place. If you stuffed it, mom would come behind and pull it out again (made me mad as a hornet).
We made the beds with the sheets tucked correctly or did it again. Now, I find myself doing the same.
A visitor did not come to our house and see it kept in disarray. Mother always kept it in apple-pie order. Now that is not to say we didn’t live there, or it always sparkled. My folks had two small children, running and playing and tracking in messes. Mom had laundry to keep up with and a kitchen that constantly had someone in and out of it. However, even with all of our activity, she still maintained a home that looked presentable when someone stopped by.
We had a sizeable Hi-Fi stereo system with a magnetic glass door that showcased the turntable, tape deck, and tuner. Accompanying the stereo were two prominent Fisher speakers. Dad had them strategically placed to hear music all over the house.
After chores were assigned, Mom would take charge of the stereo and crank up the music! Cleaning day had commenced.
I remember the sun beaming in on our freshly dusted furniture and shining across the kitchen linoleum. Following the vacuum lines across the carpet left such an immaculate feeling.
The other day we had a delivery truck drop off a new freezer. Eva and Charlotte were both sick. I had gracefully wiped noses and filled medicine syringes all day (wink). It took what seemed like hours to make a simple chicken noodle soup recipe. Every time I turned around, I was needed right away.
The delivery truck caught me off guard, per usual. The driver needed to back up close so he could unload the new freezer in the garage. I usually pride myself on keeping the outside and inside of my house in “apple-pie order,” however, this was not the case today. I had Charlotte in my arms, who was still in her morning sleeper (I know), and Eva was in a tie-dyed t-shirt with hot pink sweat pants (It was great). Her hair was unkempt as she slipped on her rain boots and sweater jacket. I had thrown on a baseball cap to hide reality. Quickly, I began moving toys, dolls, scooters, strollers, and bicycles out of the way. I thought to myself, “It looks like I don’t keep order anywhere.”
With this thought still in my head, one of the truck drivers looked at me and said, “Mam, you have your hands full. Let me clear the space for you. I have kids of my own.” Without saying anything further, he began clearing the space for the new freezer. It was like riding on a motorcycle and meeting other riders on the road. You offer a friendly wave because you share a common interest.
People with children do not need long explanations; a friendly wave will do.
Today that old radio system is gone, but the speakers remain in my parent’s home in their movie room. Saturday mornings still come and go like they did growing up. House chores present themselves, and we serve big breakfasts many times my mothers biscuits grace our table.
Home may not always look like apple-pie order, but when freshly mopped floors shine, and I see the vacuum lines in the carpet, my mother’s home-making habits prove to have affected my life – And the taste is sweet, just like apple pie.
Welcome Home
“Now, as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village, and a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house.” Luke 10:38
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