Mom in my memories

Growing up, a forces’ kid, things never stayed the same for long. It was so for my parents too, each air force kids, and then mom becoming a mountie’s wife. Mom knew the life of change, and embraced the adventure we were on. We knew no other way, and thanks to mom, we accepted it as it was. Our constants in our lives, were our parents, and each other. My siblings and I, especially in our early years were close.

Every summer spent on the road, either traveling to a new home, or traveling for the joy of it. Living out of tents, campers, and trailers. We were each others’ closest companions for more of the time I can recall, than we were not. We helped each other make new friends everywhere we went. We were happy, friendly kids. We had the love of our parents and the confidence to do anything we set our minds to, thanks to mom and dad.

Mom’s role varied over the years from stay at home mom, to working mom, and back again, depending on where we lived and what the needs of us kids were. My sister and I never experienced daycare. We played with the neighborhood kids and went to mom and tot exercise classes together. Our first home was a country bungalow in rural Nova Scotia. Where our closest friends were our immediate neighbors, who have been like family ever since, even with all of the miles that were placed between us for most of our succeeding years. Mom kept a constant contact with those who were dearest to her.

My Nanny and Grampy, my auntie, my uncles and aunt, friends who we came to know as extended family. She wrote newsy Christmas letters and made the most of every phone call. I have vivid recollection of mom’s voice chatting animatedly and her laughter filling the room. Our travels always took us to the home of some special friends/family, and often included lasting friends joining us at campgrounds. Mom treated their friends’ children like her own, and their friends did the same with us.

Mom always belonged to a crafters’ guild of some sort, from Stitch n Bitch, to co-op craft store and art association. I always think of mom with handwork on the go. Her mediums varied like the places we called home. Needlepoint and machine sewing, painting and dried flower arrangements. When I think of mom, I think of beautiful craftsmanship and her appreciation of the life surrounding her. Mom wanted to share her skills with us, yet didn’t recognize herself as an artist until her later years.

Mom volunteered at school activities and became a leader at brownies and guides. When we started home economics studies in school, I already knew all of the basic sewing and cooking skills. I was encouraged to follow my heart in so many directions with gymnastics and skating and reading and writing. I went on long hiking camp-outs that most other parents wouldn’t have considered their children ready for. Mom gave me a long lead to explore my interests and learn new things, while still keeping me well within her watchful eye. She fostered independence and responsibility in me.

When I look at the photos I made of mom’s creations and her joys, I am struck by her appreciation for life’s beauty. When I walk into hers and dad’s home I feel embraced by her, even in her absence. The objects and creations that I photographed all come from that place. They are all things that I wanted to capture for the rest of my days in memory of mom. As a reminder of the love she showered us all with.