• Mads

What I Remember

A sing-songy chuckle that ricocheted up into a piss your pants laughter.

Long, perfectly shaped, red nails.

The smell of Redken hair products.

Clinique skincare all over her double vanity bathroom, and her offering me a pat of powder before we set off somewhere.

Soft sweaters in the winter that smelled faintly of Clinique Happy.

Poinsettias lining the foyer around Christmas.

Back scratches at night to get me to fall asleep, feeling her loving eyes watching over me as I was lulled off to dreamland.

Running around the garden as she meticulously clipped at the butterfly and rose bushes.

Looking at the Black Eyed Susans with her, and hearing over and over again her musings over how beautiful and strong they were.

Her tip-toeing over to the hummingbird feeders and seeing her face light up with awe as they flitted around the garden surrounding the screened-in porch.

Listening to the Beatles as we coasted down the highway to Virginia Beach to stay at the Sandcastle Hotel (I still remember their muffins).

The image of her rocking in her cream colored rocking chair in her bedroom watching Stephen Colbert (back when it was The Colbert Report).

Sitting next to her at the big dining table during family gatherings at my grandparent’s house.

Hanging out in one of the leather chairs in her office, looking around at all of the picture frames of the family, most of them being of me and her on vacation or during the holidays.

The way that her thumbs tapped on the steering wheel when she drove and had a good song on.

These are some of the things that I remember of my mother. Sensations, sounds, smells, and situations.

I think it’s important to document what us caregivers/relatives remember of our loved ones. With each passing year, they fade a bit more from memory. Recording those important and vivid memories helps keep them alive to not only you, but others.

Take care,



© 2023 by Jessica Priston. Proudly created with