Go ::
I can still remember that morning that she taught me how to make my bed with ‘hospital corners.’ In the neat tuck in of a sheet that hundreds of times her beloved hands did in those years of nursing at a busy city hospital.
I don’t know why it is one of the clearest memories of her, but I know that I cherish it more with each passing day. That lesson only manifested itself in a very seldom at best habit of making my bed all through school and college and living on my own…even in the first few years of marriage.
But now. Now. I can’t seem to live without it. This making of beds and tucking in tight the corners of our lives. Whether the beautiful bed my husband and I share that houses the memories of many cuddles with little ones in its king-sized span or the making and arranging of their little beds complete with a folded blanket and the lining up of ‘friends’.
Whenever I do this beloved act, this making of beds that now, without a mama here in this world speaks through the years of days of faithful loving that lined the first 28 years of my life, I remember her. The oh so many, many little things that spoke of that love, of tucking in the corners of my bed, my home, my growing-up-world. Even in the darkest years I know I returned from a long day of school or sports or a semester at school and there would be that bed with hospital corners made with love.
How can the mundane become so sacred? I can only pray and plead with deepest heart that the years that span the lives of my little ones will hold beloved, love-filled memories of loved tucked in close hospital-corner style.
