Bills and advertisements stacked up like prisoners in the locked gray cell that is our box in the neighborhood’s community mailboxes. Today, amidst the drudgery was a bit of sunshine – a cream envelope addressed to me in my mother’s familiar handwriting.
I tore open the envelope. Articles ripped from a travel magazine fluttered out of a bright card, a still-life of the fruits of autumn’s harvest.
“For some reason, food makes me think of you,” the card said. I could see my mother’s smile in the words.
It’s true. I’m a bit of a food geek. I like to read recipes, cookbooks and restaurant reviews. Few things make me happier than a quiet afternoon of listening to music and working barefoot in my kitchen cooking for family and friends.
I grinned as I read the quick review of Swift’s Attic, a trendy restaurant tucked in the upstairs of a historic building on Congress Street.
We’re barely one step ahead of my mom.
Just a couple weeks ago, Kenny texted me a picture from his maiden lunch at Swift’s Attic.
I’ve yet to go.
Alongside the restaurant review was a round-trip ticket for a quick trip down memory lane.
On Black Friday a few years ago I took my parents to see an original Gutenberg Press Bible in the permanent collection at the Harry Ransom Center Library at the University of Texas.
The second article featured the world’s top libraries. The Harry Ransom Center made the list.
This simple gesture cost my mother the price of a stamp and a few minutes of time. To have my mother take note of what is dear to me and remember a sweet day we had together – that is worth all the world to me.