MUM The Rock Washer

Happy weekend everyone. Even though my mom is feeling a bit on the blue side today, she wanted to wear her wig and get some sunshine before she flys out tomorrow. I decided to focus on genuinely ‘being’ there instead of behind a lens.

There has always been something about growing up with two parents that have had green thumbs that has always been pretty awesome to be a part of and something that I can’t quite explain, expect that it felt like even though we never went on vacation it was truly a vacation at home.


The hordes of plants and bags of top soil that rolled through my parents’ yards over the years always made the best outside memories for us. I can remember one time coming home with my high school BFF and my dear mother was underneath a circle of trees washing a putrefied rock that my dad had brought home, after an early morning deer hunt. Most would have thought that was embarrassing to drive-up and find your mother washing rocks while you were with your friend, but I knew that was part of the bond my family shared. My parents’ literally has/had: sheds, flower beds, gazebos and arch ways covered in every kind of flower you could imagine. Every year we always attend this local festival called: “Forest Hill Nursery Festival”. The festival is lined with rainbow colored plants, embroidered woods and outdoor patio décor that always has us wishing we had a few extra dollars in our pockets, but never-the-less this is how our schedule goes:


Walk around – “oh look at this mom.” – “Hey Kacie, look what I just bought, I got your dad to pull the trailer around to load it”.

Pause. While we eat our Chicken-On-A-Stick

Walk around – “let’s go back up the road, I seen something I want”

Pause. While we eat our funnel cakes

Repeat steps 1-4

“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us” – Iris Murdoch



Ever since my mother’s cancer came upon us, I have woken up in the mornings and have gone through the days with thoughts of:

“Man, I’m going to miss my mom”.

“I’ll never be happy, ever”.

“I’ll never be able to decorate, or enjoy the life I see on Facebook, where people are decorating for Fall”

And count me out on the holidays forever more.

For insistence the other day, while I was on my lunch break, something had happen to me at work and I just had to call my mom to tell her. As I’m calling her, she picks up and I hear her voice: “Hey Kacie what’s up, you on lunch, I’m feeling good today”.

I immediately started crying, because maybe it won’t happen tomorrow or maybe if the good Lord is willing, I’ll have years to come with my mom, but I know one of these days, I won’t be able to pick up the phone and hear her voice or tell her every second of my life story, when something that goes right or wrong with life.

There recently have been moments where I have seriously walked around her yard and seen pot plants and benches or have seen a special flower that her and I have gotten together and have thought:

“What am I going to bring to her grave site” or “how am I going to fix it up with umbrella’s so I can keep the sun and rain off of her” …


Yes, followed by a meltdown of tears – these have been real, raw, emotional thoughts of mine. I’ll never be complete and my heart will always ache to know I’ll have to go on without her (or any loved one of mine for that matter.) I can’t imagine the pain of losing a child, but to me losing my parents are just like losing my child. Either way it will be bad.

If you get to grow old with your parents, (or a loved one for that matter) think of it as a wonderful, blessed experience because so many good people out there don’t get the chance to have that option. My favorite memories are not things we have bought over the years, the flowers, watching them garden till dawn, trips to Lowes, the festivals, but moreless, the memories of always sitting outside and enjoying the accomplishment of their hard earned money and sometimes in life’s moments of not knowing what to expect was the best way to arrive home, like seeing your mother outside washing rocks.

image image





Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *