My Mount Rushmore
Oct. 13th, 2018 08:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katespencer1Not surprising to anyone who knows me or follows me on social media one person jumped to mind when I saw this prompt. My Mems.
She's 87. She's a combination of Ouiser and Clairee from Steel Magnolias with a dash of Julia Sugarbaker.
Before I sit down and try to fully document her, it's important to stress how important she is to me.
More than a fount of funny anecdotes and amusing stories, she's the woman that raised me, shaped me and gave me my slightly abrasive personality. Mems is my grandmother, my best friend, and my rock.
She's loud, brassy, and a true broad. And damn funny. She doesn't just walk to the beat of her own drummer, she stole the drum and kicked down the drummer.
I try to describe her and I'm often lost for words, she'll do whatever she wants, say what she wants and rip you a new one any day she wants, then turn around and pay off your bills or stop and write a check to build a new playground at the local elementary school. She's an enigma of uniqueness that leaves her mark wherever she goes.
As she's getting older I see our relationship shift, as I take a more lead role, doing the grocery shopping and cleaning up. Running her errands now that she doesn't get out much.
We're still roommates. She's still bossy and demanding. She's still hilarious.
Now my worries are different than they were when I was in my 20s living at home with her. I worried about how it looked to people, would it impede my love life (spoiler: it did).
Now I treasure our time. I look forward to Monday nights when we watch Dancing with the Stars. She's on Facebook so I can send her random links and explain why half the things she sees are fake.
But I also have a feeling of dread all the time. She's 87. I'm realistic. I'm terrified of the day there will be a world without her. A Kate without a Mems.
She used to be up at the crack of dawn. Now I'm up. I make the coffee and bring in the paper. I watch her while she sleeps to be sure. I go to the gym and start my day.
In a way I think I'm her Mount Rushmore. A fully formed version of her (with a dash of pop culture obsession she lacks). I'm the most like her of all her kids, for the good and the bad.
Mems is my Mount Rushmore. My guiding star. My Mems.
She's 87. She's a combination of Ouiser and Clairee from Steel Magnolias with a dash of Julia Sugarbaker.
Before I sit down and try to fully document her, it's important to stress how important she is to me.
More than a fount of funny anecdotes and amusing stories, she's the woman that raised me, shaped me and gave me my slightly abrasive personality. Mems is my grandmother, my best friend, and my rock.
She's loud, brassy, and a true broad. And damn funny. She doesn't just walk to the beat of her own drummer, she stole the drum and kicked down the drummer.
I try to describe her and I'm often lost for words, she'll do whatever she wants, say what she wants and rip you a new one any day she wants, then turn around and pay off your bills or stop and write a check to build a new playground at the local elementary school. She's an enigma of uniqueness that leaves her mark wherever she goes.
As she's getting older I see our relationship shift, as I take a more lead role, doing the grocery shopping and cleaning up. Running her errands now that she doesn't get out much.
We're still roommates. She's still bossy and demanding. She's still hilarious.
Now my worries are different than they were when I was in my 20s living at home with her. I worried about how it looked to people, would it impede my love life (spoiler: it did).
Now I treasure our time. I look forward to Monday nights when we watch Dancing with the Stars. She's on Facebook so I can send her random links and explain why half the things she sees are fake.
But I also have a feeling of dread all the time. She's 87. I'm realistic. I'm terrified of the day there will be a world without her. A Kate without a Mems.
She used to be up at the crack of dawn. Now I'm up. I make the coffee and bring in the paper. I watch her while she sleeps to be sure. I go to the gym and start my day.
In a way I think I'm her Mount Rushmore. A fully formed version of her (with a dash of pop culture obsession she lacks). I'm the most like her of all her kids, for the good and the bad.
Mems is my Mount Rushmore. My guiding star. My Mems.
