Mom. . .

Today is my mom's birthday. She'd be turning 74 this year and I can't believe she's been gone for over seven years now. The older I get, the more I feel like I didn't really know her. I have a book of questions I'd like to ask her. I have years worth of hugs to give her.
We recently moved from our house to an apartment. One of the beautiful advantages of living in our new home is that we are less than three blocks from Emma's school. I am amazed at how excited she is to walk to school every day! We always hold hands when we cross the street, but oftentimes she's running ahead or lagging behind. The other day we were getting ready for school when her eyes got really big and she said, "Mommy, today I want to hold your hand all the way to school!" She was so excited. As we were walking hand in hand, I smiled. My heart was so happy. Her tiny hand isn't so tiny anymore and we can really hold hands instead of her just holding a finger or two of mine. My hands feel so big around hers. One very distinct physical characteristic I remember about my mom is her hands. They were always so soft. For as much gardening and sewing as she did, I'm amazed that her hands were always so beautiful and smooth. When I was little, little, I remember watching her file her nails on the way to church. The ten-minute ride to town was just enough time for her to smooth the edges and sometimes even add a clear coat (always a clear coat) of nail polish to her nails. The whole van reeked of the powerful smell, but now it brings back memories of my mom and I love it. I held my mom's hands a lot during the last few months of her life. All the questions I have now hadn't quite formed in my mind and I'd often sit speechless next to her, just holding her hand. What I wouldn't give to hold her hand today. How much I would just love to feel her soft skin next to mine. Emma and I have had a lot of hand-holding time lately. When I hold her hand, I do it so purposefully, as if I want her to remember my hands like I remember my mom's. I want her to feel the love I have for her.
Another physical characteristic I remember and miss about my mom are her cheeks. My mom wasn't a tall woman, but she wasn't as short as I am. When I'd give her a hug, our right cheeks would always touch, mine slightly below hers. If I close my eyes, I can still feel her incredibly soft skin touching mine. I don't remember ever seeing a blemish on her face. She had such a beautiful face. She wore lipstick; that's it. Her skin was so smooth and she had very few wrinkles. She always smelled so good. What I wouldn't give to hug her tightly and feel her soft cheek next to mine. We weren't a very huggy family growing up, but sometime after I left for college, I started hugging a lot more. Having lived in this country for two and a half years, I'm even much more of a hugger these days! Oh, the hugs I would give her now.
So many memories flood my mind. Significant days like today are filled with longing for her. Her voice. Her hug. Her smell. Her touch. Her laugh. Happy Birthday Mom. Oh, how I miss you.