~Memories of Momma~ - InkSpot.Com

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Web~Witch is living and writing with a passion, surrounded by the picturesque beauty of a quaint New England town in Massachusetts. She is inspired by the gorgeous maples, the rolling hills and the vast sea. As a mother of five children, four daughters and one son, she has learned that life offers many challenges, yet, has found that there is always a path of least resistance. She enjoys every day and what it has to offer. Her dream is to pass along as much positivity as possible to others. Enjoying life to its fullest , laughing, spreading joy and humor and paying it forward is what describes the heart and soul of this woman. Welcome to her little corner of the world. Do enjoy some New England charm and warmth while you are visiting. Ta, WW

~Memories of Momma~

I remember when I was a little girl how much I loved to go running through the golden fields of wheat on a hot, breezy, August afternoon. It is something I did many times while growing up in Kansas. My momma and I would prance through the fields pretending we were fairytale unicorns out on a lark.

One day, when I was eight years old, after a weeklong visit at my Great-Aunt Bella’s farm in Iowa, my momma just died. My aunt broke the news to me after supper, on a rainy Friday evening. She said Momma had a pulmonary embolism, which she explained was from a blood clot breaking off and hitting Momma’s lungs. It killed her instantly. Auntie told me Momma did not suffer; she just fell asleep and waited for the angels to take her to heaven.

I hated Auntie for telling me such a horrible story. I wanted to go home and hug my momma. I yelled at her saying she was a mean old lady who never had her own little girl and was just trying to steal me away from my Momma. Auntie just cried and cried. I guess I should have felt bad for her, but I just couldn’t. While in the middle of my childish tantrum, I demanded to go home immediately.

Mr. Haynes, the farm hand at Auntie’s place, drove me back to Kansas to be with my daddy and my little brother Joey. Daddy was all flushed in the face when I got home. He hugged me very tight and said he was so sorry that I would have to grow up without my momma. I pulled away from him and just ran to my bedroom, throwing myself down on the bed. The tears flowed abundantly which made my head hurt. Eventually, I tired myself out and drifted off to sleep.

It was morning and the sun was shining so bright. I jumped out of bed and ran outside to the never-ending wheat fields. I knew that everything was going to be all right when I looked out to the distance and saw my beautiful Momma wading through the tall wheat crops. My Momma is alive! She is taunting me to come join her so we can play “unicorns”.

I laughed jubilantly and started running toward Momma. However, no matter how much I ran, I could never catch up to her. Momma would still seem to be so far away. I yelled out “Momma, I don’t want to play anymore. Come back!” Momma stood like a statue for a moment and looked at me from afar. She had a big smile on her face and just seemed to glow like an angel in the dewy mist. I heard her speak, as if her voice was carried with a warm breeze. She whispered, but it was quite audible to me. There was a sweetness and calmness in her speech.

“Darling Amanda, Momma loves you very much. I will be with you in these fields, just like always. It will be delightful and we will run together, pretending to be unicorns. However, you must remember that I too will be magical, just like that unicorn in your beautiful mind. Please continue to run through the wheat fields on sunny August mornings and feel my spirit. Then you will sense how much I love and miss you”.

Suddenly, I woke up in my bed still wearing the clothes I had on when I returned from Auntie’s farm. I hastily ran through the kitchen smiling at Daddy and headed for those endless fields of wheat to join Momma in our fairytale. I knew it would be our special place, forever.

Thirty years have passed since my momma spoke to me in that vivid dream. I sit here at my keyboard, looking out the window at the family farm that became mine when Daddy died. I can’t help but notice the sun is shining its golden flecks over the field of wheat. Consequently, I decided to put my memoirs aside. I threw on a pair of overalls, so I could run out to those endless fields on this fine, hot, August morning to play “unicorns” with my momma.

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