Halcyon Days

Some say the death of a loved one becomes easier to process with each passing year, but I’m not so sure that will apply to me regarding Mother’s Day.

Especially after writing the tribute column posted here Friday night, I really wanted to indulge my sentimental side and spend Sunday in a type of constructive tribute. Fortunately, I had the perfect material and plenty of it.

Settling into a new apartment is rarely easy, even more so when you are single and relegated to doing the work around a 42- to 44-hour work schedule. On Sunday, however, I was at the point of being ready to put up a few shelves and bring out the bunnies. The poor things have been neglected too long now and it’s high time these assorted figurines, these power symbols of the Rabbit Goddess herself, were brought out to be admired and cherished once more.

So, that work has begun. What I have with me is a sumptuous collection, yet it’s only a small percentage of all that my mom had acquired over a 10-year period. Thank God for two younger brothers when it comes to suddenly having to split up a literal rabbit figurine and collectibles museum.

I think what I miss most about Mother’s Day is the previously mentioned quest for a new rabbit item to present her. Without fail, a big smile spread across her face and her eyes reverted to those of a young child every Mother’s Day, Christmas, Easter, and birthday. I liked making her happy on special days, not that she was unhappy the rest of the year, but it was a wonderful scene as she would ask where I found the gift and, later, show it off to all of her friends in the neighborhood.

There were certain gift shops I could usually count on, both here in North Texas and in Memphis, but I soon learned to scope out other stores. Garden centers, for instance, usually carried rabbit ornaments of some description for the yard or flowerbed. The great thing about Mom is she didn’t care what it was, as long as it had a rabbit prominently depicted.

I’m not a gardener (well, not since I was a child and my maternal grandparents kept a huge vegetable garden), so when it came to divesting the inherited “outdoor” rabbit items, I made a suggestion to my two brothers, who readily agreed.

The morning before we all went our separate ways again, our mom’s four best friends on the block awoke to find a garden rabbit and a Tiki torch sitting in the front yard of their respective homes. It was a way to leave them with a special memory of our mom and the awesome block parties, knowing the likes of neither would ever be seen again in that neighborhood.

Sunday evening, I decided to partake in another tribute to my mom. She enjoyed the regular box of blush or Grenache wine and I can’t remember how many times I would trot off to the nearby liquor store for her. Sometimes I didn’t even have to have any money with me; in yet another example of the high regard the neighborhood held for her, she was the only person anyone knew or remembered being given standing credit at that liquor store.

Well, in honor of her, I went over to Savannah Winery and Bistro and settled on a glass of Messina Hof’s Mama Rosé (how appropriately named), which is actually a white cabernet but with enough characteristics similar to my mom’s favorites. For me, it was just right for raising a very special toast.

The only difference is that I was sipping the wine from a proper wine glass. Mom would have had it in a red Solo Cup.

Next year, I’ll have to think of something else to do to remember her.

I’m not worried, though. Some people just give you plenty of material to work with.

In a perfect world, Terry Britt would open a place called the Ella Faye Britt Memorial Rabbit Museum and Wine Bar. You can reach him at terrybritt@hotmail.com.