Six Months

I have had a difficult time sleeping over the past week. I lie in bed most nights, and see this image of my mother; she's in the kitchen, wearing one of the pairs of coolots she owned, with a sleeveless shirt on, cooking something in the kitchen. She is singing, or talking to someone on the phone. I think to myself, "mom is probably making dinner right now". Then it hits me - she's not.

Being in Edinburgh has created this distance between my mother and I that I don't particularly like. The last time I talked to my mother, I would have never guessed that I would be where I am right now, and so I feel like it's this place that she never would have associated with me; like she's not with me here, like she was in Towson, or Oxford, or Ghana. I thought I would go through a catharsis of some sort when I got here, being away from my family, and having "me time" as so many people had suggested I needed to have. I haven't, at least not in the way I imagined; instead I just kind of go day to day, still worrying about my family, and not feeling like I have time to myself, even though I spend most days alone. I spend the days tired and nights restless, unable to sleep.

Six months ago, at about this time (4:30 am Eastern time), I finally fell asleep. I had been awake overnight, by my mother's side during her last moments of life. Looking back, I realize I was going to sleep early that morning, at about the time my mother typically would wake up, to get ready for the job she had for over twenty years. She was given an award for twenty years of service, only a few months before she died.

As a teenager, I avoided telling people what my mother did at all costs, and avoided associating myself, in any way, with her job. I was embarrassed by my mother's job, and didn't want anyone to know what she did. I never even went to her job, unless it was absolutely necessary, because I didn't want anyone from my school to see me there and make the connection between me and her job. I was a stupid teenager, and have lived to regret my actions.

On April 21st, exactly one month after my mother died, I happened to be driving by a McDonald's, and decided to go in and get something. Being a vegetarian, McDonald's is not a place I frequent very often, but it felt like the right thing to do on that day.

So today, I plan on doing what I've done on the 21st of each month for the past five months; I plan on going to McDonald's, the place my mother worked for over twenty years; the place that gave her a 20-year award, much nicer than any award I will probably ever receive for service; the place where I have a hard time ordering because of my vegetarianism; the place I avoided going as a teenager; the place where I see my mother in every employee; the place where I feel like I need to go every month, to honor my mother.

And maybe, I'll sleep better tonight.