I am thankful for the Saturday song.
It was a silly little ditty that she sang to me on Saturday mornings when I was little. As far as I know, she never sang it to anyone else on this planet, so it was something sacred just between us.
There's something lovely in having little intimacies with someone you love. Whether it be a nickname or a tradition or a song you like to sing together, close relationships almost always have small things that make them individually unique. And these unique intimacies are unaffected by time and place. They transcend time and maturity and phase of life. Even when I was a teenager, on certain sleepy Saturday mornings, my mom sang the Saturday song. And one Saturday morning this past Spring when she finally made it home from the rehab facility after her brain surgery, she answered the phone and sang it to me.
I can hear it in my mind. What a lovely gift.
It didn't start out as a memory. It started as living, as her just being my mom the best way she knew how. It started as me and her, sleepy still in the nooks of our eyes, together on a random Saturday morning. And it lives on inside of me some thirty years later.
I am so thankful for the Saturday song and all the other little intimate ways in which our lives were intertwined. She was so much more than just a mom to me. So much more.