The sound of your bangles chime throughout time.
You are part wisdom and will, love and beauty, fault and redemption, and I hear the song of your bangles chime throughout time.
When I was young I would crawl into bed with you and rest my little head on the nook of your outstretched arm. Then something horrible happened. I believe it was puberty. My body changed and I felt awkward. I stopped cuddling, and worked my independence out through every hair colour I could think of. Green, blue, purple, black. I put a stud in my nose, and thought it was the most beautiful thing on my face. I wore second hand dresses I thought were cool. I tweaked my wardrobe a little when you mentioned one time I looked like a french maid, and refused to take me out.
When I turned 13 you bought me a bangle, because that was our Caribbean family tradition. When I was 17 I lost the bangle in the mud some time during a contact game of football. I was guilt ridden for months, and swore I’d never let myself wear one again. Then we flew to Barbados and you replaced my lost bangle with two! You said they were a lesson in self forgiveness. I wore them every day. At first I wore one on each hand, until I put my arms together behind my back on my first day at a new job. The two bangles locked together handcuffing me until a colleague set me free. I put both on one wrist and that’s when it began, that I joined your song, and our bangles chimed together throughout time.
I grew up a little and made bigger mistakes. Your reminder of self forgiveness dangled always from my wrist. I got married, and two years later a baby was on its way. You, the woman who could faint at the sight of a loose tooth, stayed in the hospital room with me, braiding my hair, keeping my husband calm, surviving your daughter’s pain while I lay crying on the bed. All angst about the human body went out the window that day. All innocence of it was redeemed as my lovely baby girl was born. We marveled at the miracle of life and nursing. You taught me how to change a diaper, and took my angel at night so I could sleep. The cycle of cuddles began again. As I lifted my new born out of her crib my bangles chimed. I smiled knowing that the sound of these bracelets would be the sound of her mother, as your bangles had played the tune of mine.
My husband died two years later, and you moved in for two weeks. You held us together as you so often do. We celebrated my daughter’s second birthday while I wrote out a eulogy, and you formatted memorial bookmarks.
You left and I was lonely, but in the darkness of those nights, as I pulled the covers up to my chin, there was the echo of your song in the tinkling of my bangles, and I felt less alone as I cried myself to sleep.
Hope broke through the darkness, and I felt gratitude more than pain. We became survivors, and thrivers, and saw the sun poke through the rain.
You had nursed me, changed me, held my hand, then let me go. You disciplined me and loved me, and gave me room to grow. You taught me, laughed with me, and shared my pain when I cried. Then you set me free again to see the wings you gave me fly.
You are mother, you are wisdom, you mean the world to my babe. And the bangles that you gave me chirp the love song that you gave.
Every flick of my wrist, and throw of my hand, sings the song of your chime, as my bangles of forgiveness play your song throughout our time.
If you want to learn more about my best life coach, who is now a coach to others around the world, please visit her website at www.PercyEmtage.com