My Mother's Chimes - A Mother's Day Story

The days are finally getting longer and the snow piles have melted here in New Hampshire.  Reminders of this past winter still linger. Snow removal equipment has been stored and mittens and boots are slowly being tucked away as the early signs of spring finally emerge in New England. 

It’s time to put away all of the reminders of this epic winter. We will try to forget the past and put those memories of record snowfall and freezing temperatures away.  Items that people left in the streets claiming “reserved” parking spots after days of shoveling out buried cars are no longer needed in the cities. The sight of spring flowers bursting through the previously frozen earth and happy sounds of birds chirping outside signal a change of season.

There are, however, reminders and memories that never get completely stored away.   

When a parent dies, possessions left behind tend to arouse strong feelings of the deep connection between a parent and child that simply can’t be packed away.  This is also true when visiting a special place that jogs and fills our memories of days gone by spent with a parent who is no longer alive. These reminders nourish our connections that are forever etched in our souls. The bumper sticker on my car reads: ”What’s in your head is gone when you’re dead.”

During the summer months, early each morning my mother hung up a string of old copper wind chimes. These chimes were precariously held together with fishing filament secured to an old rusty hook outside on the front porch ceiling.  The summer breezes took over creating that distinctive sound that is etched in my memory. 

This clanging sound signaled summers arrival. The tone now reminds me that my mother is no longer here to hang up her chimes and greet the new day. 

Now the wind chimes clang about suspended from the ceiling of our covered porch where they project that distinctive sound all year round.  When I hear them, I hear mom still singing to me as she often did when I was a child.

The chimes survived the recent harsh winds that we all experienced in the Northeast this past winter, blowing fiercely in the bitter cold air and blizzard conditions that came our way weekly. The chimes have quieted down now that spring has arrived. 

Another year has gone by since my mother’s sudden death shortly before one Mother’s Day,  marking another notch in the growing divide between the past and the present. I never realized that these rusty old wind chimes would help keep alive the vivid memories of my mother’s life on earth. 

The familiar sound rings unmistakably in my heart.  I hear her voice reminding me to hurry up and hang up the chimes - a new day has dawned and a new season has begun. 

Life moves on, as it should.

Contact and Barb will send you a bumper sticker.