Mrs. Smith

One of the things I remember the most about my childhood was that my mother had a lot of guests. These guests were all women and were gathered from all aspects of her life - church, work, school... Regardless of their origins, they were a fixture on our patio on Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes they would bring their children with them (and I would hide in my room so I wouldn't have to socialize), but mostly, they came by to chat, have some coffee and possibly knit (or whatever it is that women do when they congregate).

These women were my mother's "village." In Greece, the female social network is a very powerful thing. Everywhere you go, you'll see mothers and grandmothers sitting on their balconies observing the comings and goings of all passerbys. Since South Florida isn't quite built for this style of observation, my mom's group of friends would visit each other on a regular basis for company and for the exchange of information (I would never dare call it gossip).

One of my mom's friends, Mrs. Smith, was quite a bit older than my mom, but she was very cool. She drove a small Honda CRV and was quite progressive for her age as evidenced by her bohemian attire. When I was about 9, she came along with my parents to one of my dance recitals. The only reason I remember this is because after the recital was over and we came out for our curtain call, Mrs. Smith walked up and handed me a dozen roses. As I stood on that stage waving to my friends and family, I remember feeling like a prima ballerina at her big debut all because a friend of my mother's thought to buy me flowers.

Mrs. Smith passed away about a while ago (it's been over ten years at least), but in my mind, she still makes trips over to my mom's house on the weekends. In fact, there have been a number of family friends who have passed over the years, but I keep on pretending that things are as they always were. It's an easy thing to do since I only head down South a couple of times a year. (Did I mention that I had a problem with denial?)

As Parker heads towards the age when his permanent memories begin, I often wonder what impressions of his youth he'll carry with him to adulthood. Then, I realize that I probably need to start having more visitors and friends or he'll never get the 'raised by a village' experience that was so much a part of my early years.