When the soft winds blow across the land, I turn to face the caress. The smells that are carried along the way make me dream of everything beyond what I can see. I smell flowers, sweet and spicy. What colors would they be? I smell animals, the barn smells of babies, manure and feed. Wha kind of animals are there? smell fresh laundry, drying in the breeze. Could I hear the crack of th sheets as they snap back at the wind? No, it is my Mamma. She wears a mumu and it flaps in the breeze. The colors are bright and cheerful, like the flowers, like my Mamma. She smells sweet and spicy too, like the flowers. (Not at all like the barnyard, that smell is unique.)
Mamma has worn a mumu for as long as I can remember. “She is one of the easiest people to give presents to.” My Dad said. I agree. The hardest part is deciding what color to pick.
We have used the old ones for many things. I have made tents on the clothes line and in the house. I have used them for a blanket to comfort me mamma was not about. Dad has cut them up for rags when the sunlight would shine through the thinning fabric. Grandma uses them for rag rugs that lay about the house. Auntie uses them to crochet grocery bags that we fill when we go to town. Our favorite, though, are the dolls that mamma makes for my sisters, my brother, my cousins, friends and me.
Mamma holds this family together and that is why she likes to sew. I hear her singing or humming when she has a needle and thread in her hands. I think that with every stitch she makes, she asks for health and peace to follow the doll’s owner. I know that each doll she makes, is made with love. Everyone who receives one, holds a piece of mamma nearly every day. My dolls line the shelf in my tiny room. They fill my heart with so much love there isn’t much place for anything else. I have some that look like animals, other like faeries, yet more that look like family.
My grandma said that she would teach me how to sew. How I would love to learn. The first thing I would like to make is a doll or mamma. I would sing all the while as I stitched t with love, wishing her health and peace. I would make a smile on the face that would light the room at night. Most important of all, I would have to make a mumu. A little mumu with flowers dancing bright. It would be great to have it ready for the special day that arrives soon.
There would be no mistaking who the doll is meant to be. It is a lady that is happy to be a mother to her children and whomever else needs her hugs. She is the best friend my father could ever have, because he told us that. She is loved, my mamma in a mumu. I hope my doll is finished because we want to wish her a very happy Mothers Day.