Past Beauty

I was doing the dishes at work today. There is a three compartment sink in the back room. Wash, rinse and sanitize. Business was slow and so I took a couple bus tubs to the back and went to work. Mostly hard plastics, some glasses and mugs. A few half and half thermoses and some utensils. I was washing this one ornate glass cake stand, I think we use it for displaying scones or cupcakes, and it reminded me of my mom.

One time when I was quite small, maybe around six, my mom had an emergency. She was upstairs washing dishes and I was downstairs in the garage coloring. I was trying very hard to stay inside the lines. We had a split level house where the downstairs exited out into the garage and the driveway. The floor of the garage was very smooth and very cold. It must have been spring because I didn't have a coat or sweater on. Suddenly I heard my mom scream. A horrible, chilling, sharp wail. I looked up and saw her shoot out the door and into the garage. She was holding onto one arm with a towel. The towel was already dripping with blood. The blood flew off the fringe of the towel and onto the garage floor. She ran right by me, still sitting there coloring, and ran out into the bright sun.

We had wonderful neighbors on Meadow Lane. The Qualls next door, the Hienrichs on the other side. The Hammonds around the corner, and the Dockers across the street from them. Supons down the street and the Huffmans across from us. Mrs Huffman heard my mom scream and came running outside. Her car was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition already (it was Kansas in the 60's and that's where everyone kept their car keys). She opened the door of the car and my mother seemed to just float right into that car. They drove away with my mom looking back at me, Mrs Huffman yelling, go over to the Hammond's. I guess I did. I do remember being over at Lori Hammond's house unsure and feeling weird. I was young enough that I can remember wondering if my mom was going to come back. Truly not knowing.

It turned out she had been washing a big glass bowl. The one she always made cakes in. I can remember now how my finger would glide along the top rim of that bowl after the cake batter had been poured into cake pans, skimming off scant remains of batter to eat. She had dropped it and it split right in two, one half slicing her hand almost clean off.

I thought about that story today when I was washing dishes, wondering where the beauty of my day would come from. I thought about that story and about the wonderfulness of seeing my mom drive up, hours later with my dad, wrist all bandaged up. The beauty of her just coming home.