A Time for Sadness and Nostalgia

Gazing at a nearby maple tree with all the tinges of autumn colors of red, orange, and olive green, reminds me of the old plaid couch that adorned our living room when I was a child. The couch was rather homely with its worn, lumpy cushions and  itchy material, but it was also a comfy place where the family would gather to watch our favorite shows like Ed Sullivan or Hullaballoo. I remember that as the autumn chill replaced the warmth of late summer, mom would cook her infamous shin-o- beef soup with the dreaded parsnip, celery, turnips and carrots, to be served over the skinny egg noodles that somehow saved the meal. The stringy meat was pulled out of the pot, and with catsup and horseradish as the condiment, it was served between two slices of wonder bread to offer additional nutrition to a hungry family. Although the meal was not a pretty site, the smell was comforting and also a signal of the changing seasons. I thought of my ailing mom, who can no longer cook or care for herself, (but is lovingly cared for by my sister in Florida) and felt a wave of sadness and nostalgia. It is the same feeling that surfaces as I watch the trees change color, knowing that the colors will soon be replaced by brown leaves before the branches lie bare in the cold of the winter. The early autumn is like the stage of life where I find myself, knowing that in time I will be in the winter of my life as my mom is now. Although she is confused, when I phone her and keep her focused on the happy memories of her life, she prattles on with a childlike quality that warms my heart as my sadness mingles with her nostalgia. She is still a beautiful person in the midst of her season, which gives me comfort for my own inevitable change. I think I will call mom this week so I can tell her all about the beauty of the changing leaves. I will ask her if she remembers the recipe for her shin- o- beef soup and tell her just how much I miss that wonderful smell.