A Diary Tribute To Moms
Jan. 2, 1961: "Dear Diary, My sled hit a tree and cracked my head open. My stupid brother said I
didn't crack my head. But I certainly did! Mommy took us to Carvel's for butterscotch sundays. Goodbye! Saralee Perel"
I was 10. Michael was 14.
My poor mother. How could she let us out of her sight?
Michael loved terrifying me. He said, "If you hiccup and burp at the same time, you die." Instantly, I hiccuped. I raced to my parents' bedroom, and cried, "I'll die if I burp!" Mom patted the bed. Our arms surrounded each other as we fell asleep.
Jan. 7: "Dear Diary, I have a sore throat. Mommy officially said No School For You. She let me try on her jewelry. Even her GENUINE diamonds. Goodbye! Saralee Perel"
I have her clip-on earrings, brooches and "genuine" (costume) diamonds. When I'm sick, I often play with them. Sometimes I cry.
Jan. 9: "Mommy thinks I'm faking my VERY sore throat. I TOLD her my tempeture. One hundred twenty! Goodbye! Saralee Perel P.S. Mommy's agrevated with me."
Jan. 10: "Dear Diary, One of our fishes died. They are Frankie and Johnny. Frankie is the dead one. Mommy won't get another fish because she is mad I forget to feed them. We had a dog named Friskie. He died because he stopped breathing. Well, that's all! Except I wish I had a nicer Mommy. Goodbye! Saralee Perel P.S. I really did not mean that."
Mom rarely slept well. When I'd need the bathroom at night, I'd sneak past Michael's dark door. He'd lunge out screaming, "SURPRISE!" I'd go flying three feet, then land on all fours. "Mommy!" I always ran to her side. "Michael did it again!" Without opening her eyes, she'd pat the bed, then wrap me in her arms.
Once Michael said, "If you sleep on your back, you turn into a corpse in a coffin, and Mom and Dad will bury you alive." To sleep on my stomach, I'd put pieces of my china tea set against my shoulders, so I'd feel them if I turned. Sometimes they'd break.
Mom found out. She cried, holding a delicate teacup with a broken handle.
"Please don't cry, Mommy."
"Grandma gave me this for my bas mitzvah. We had tea parties, like you and I do."
I loved tea parties. We'd have Tetley tea and Keebler cookies. We sang, "Tea for Two," emphasizing words by singing them loudly. "Just ME for YOU, and YOU for ME."
"There's some I haven't broken, Mommy." It broke my heart then and it does now.
Feb. 9: "Dear Diary, It's my birthday!!!! I got Frankie THE SECOND. I told Mommy one hundred times Johnny THE FIRST is lonely. Goodbye! Saralee Perel"
Can you imagine how irritating it was, hearing me kvetching all day about a fish?
Oct. 23: "Dear Diary, Jamie and I bicycled downhill. With NO hands. I fell. The kick stand stuck in my leg. It was pouring red blood. Let me just say it was agony. Mommy took me to my uncle, the FAMOUS Doctor Louis Sachs. Uncle Lou picked out many hundred pebbles under my nose and sewed black stitches on my leg. I almost died. Mommy stopped and bought chocolate cake. Goodbye! Saralee Perel"
My mother loved me — unconditionally. I wish I could tell her that I know that ... now. I want to say, "I adored the shelter of your arms. You made my world safe." Sometimes I think I'll never find solace again.
"And Mom? I am so sorry I broke our treasured tea set."
My last entry starts, "Dear Diary." I'm changing it, as a final tribute to my mother. Maybe you could say some of my words to your mom. I wish I had said them to mine.
Dec. 31: "Dear Mommy, Well, well, well. Our time together is coming to a sad ending. It's been SO wonderful having you to talk to. You are my very best friend. I will miss you SO much. I will love and cherish you forever. Love, love, love, love, love, Goodbye. Saralee Perel"
