scattered memories and loveAfter an event like this, my mind is just going crazy, indexing all of my memories of my mom. Some of my most recent trips home are at times difficult to remember, and some of my earlier memories are just popping into my head, like flowers coaxed forth after a storm. Here are two of these memories.
When I was maybe 13 years old, I was out in the back yard with my mom. It was early summer, the grasses wet with dew and the audible hum of insects droning in the background. We saw a pair of Io moths, mating, attached end to end on a small branch, and took in the scene in mutual fascination and awe. After a minute, she turned to me and said: "THEY'RE DOING IT!!!" with a huge grin. While at 13, I was mortified; this is one of my countless favorite memories of her.
My mom exposed me to so many different natural phenomena. I remember the annual ladybug migration. There were hundreds of thousands of ladybugs, all around and inside the house in Sherborn. She stood on the balcony with me as I catalogued the number of spots and the patterns and the colors of hundreds of ladybugs. This experience, and many others like it with her and my dad were what pushed me to pursue a career in genetics. She always pushed me to keep reaching for my dreams in science, and would always listen to updates on my research.
While my mom was not a religious person, she had certain logically rendered beliefs on the after life, based on experiences in her life. She believed that there is a consciousness separate from the physical, and that some type of cognizance likely continues after the end of life, as we see it. This poem makes me ponder about how she expressed herself artistically and also articulates my own difficult thoughts about the end of life.
I love you, Mom. I'll always be your little scientist.