14 March, 2011

writing it down

growing up, my mom worked at a doctor's office downstairs from our apartment. i remember going in to say hello after getting dropped off after school. i remember sitting in the chair next to her desk, watching her answer the phone and filling in the lines of the doctor's appointment book. i remember looking at the newest pens from pharmaceutical reps. i remember listening to the clackity-clack clamor of the typewriter as my mom swiftly moved her fingers across the keys. i remember the hum of the copy machine and the warmth of the sheets of paper it ejected. i remember hiding underneath her desk in the winter time right in front of the electric heater in the wall with its red-hot coils exuding warmth. sometimes she would let me stay there, hiding, while she sat down with a patient at her desk.

i hated when my mom told me to get up because a patient needed to sit in the chair i occupied. i would stand in the back hallway, hidden from view, peeking, listening, waiting for my chance to return.

i loved when my mom had to get up to escort a patient to a room. while she weighed them and made notes in their chart, i spun myself in circles in her office chair and rooted through her drawers for Tic Tacs, Coffee Nips, and the odd Werther's hard candy.

i never left voluntarily. my mom had to tell me to go upstairs to have a snack and do my homework. most days, i found reasons to call her at the office. sometimes she stopped picking up because she knew i was only calling to ask if i could have a cookie or get the Lite Brite down from the top of a closet. there was a simple solution for this. i would walk into the hallway right in front of my bedroom and stomp on the hardwood floors directly above her desk. after a few stomps, she would call the house phone and tell me to stop. she sounded irritated and told me to stop bothering her at work, but, looking back, i think she knew that i just wanted to hear her voice. i think she knew that i wished i could stay down there in the office with her all day, watching her work, listening to her talk, feeling her near. i think she knew that i liked her best out of everyone in the whole wide world.


  1. Aw, such a sweet story. I love posts like this. Keep writing!

  2. great memory, lady.

    i love trying to capture bits of our lives through writing.

  3. Awe... this was absolutely adorable. and beautifully written.

  4. this is so beautiful.

    i totally admire your relationship with your mom (and your sister)

    and i feel lucky that we're friends :)

  5. Sweetest thing I have read in a long time. Some people are just lucky to have great mama's.

    Ramblings of a Small Town Girl
    Fanciful Brainstorm - Tumblr

  6. This is so wonderful. You should keep writing them. It would be something wonderful to have in the future. I wish I had done something like this.

  7. Loved this! So great to write this down and remember it! You rock at writting.

  8. and I rock at spelling (writing)

  9. This is so sweet! Your Mom is GORGEOUS btw!

    Oh & you are rad b/c you referenced Lite Bright! Best.toy.ever.

    Had soooo much fun this wknd with you!!!!!

  10. great post, so beautifully written. this one brings back memories actually...i used to call my parents at work too.

    my dad had this great desk with a secret pull out surface for extra writing room, and i was obsessed. and don't even get me started on the copy machine!

  11. This kind of made tear up. I miss my mom so much. She died about seven months ago from cancer. I love hearing stories from people who love their mommas and really cherish the love they have. Thank you for this.

  12. wow. emotional!


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