Coal Miner's Daughter

Tonight John took me to see Loretta Lynn in concert.

I don't particularly like country music. My husband doesn't drink, lie, cheat on me or frequent honky-tonks (whatever they may be), so I just don't get it.

My Mom liked Loretta Lynn. She watched the movie "Coal Miner's Daughter" a lot. Once, I watched it with her.

I miss my Mom so I keep tactile reminders around the house. Little things that tie my daily life into her memory: a dusty package of biscotti, a box of raspberry tea, greeting cards with her handwriting. Small tokens, tucked into drawers, kitchen cupboards and inside cookbooks, that when stumbled upon strike a match of recognition and love.

I knew I would see my mother at the concert. Music has the ability to tie itself around bits of the past, allowing the listener to effortlessly reel them in. Loretta Lynn would sing the words needed to conjure-up the memories. I waited until I could feel her presence, then turned to my left to see her; smiling, clapping.

So many things I desperately longed to tell her.

Mom! You are dearly loved, you are sorely missed. Some of us aren't doing very well without you. It's years later and I still pick up the phone to call you. When I came out of the anesthesia after my surgery, the nurse said I asked for you. Our hearts are broken, nothing is the same-come back, come back, come back, come back, come back.

But, she looked so happy that I didn't want to spoil her good time, so I just smiled at her and she smiled back.

The auditorium was dark and the music loud. No one could tell I was crying.