I’m missing my Mom this morning. I miss her love. I miss her missing me. Her open arms and quavering voice. It’s so elemental, isn’t it? Blood to blood. The flesh of her flesh. Longing. Belonging. Spelunking into the warm dark cave. An embrace so vast and yet so small it can fit on the end of a pin. Motherlove. It never ends. I can feel it still and somehow it translates into an afterlife. Maybe not how I imagine it, but how nature has devised it; to enfold us in generations, begets that go on and on and on.
My mother lives in me as I live in my daughters. Some might say well, it certainly doesn’t offer much consolation. I mean it comes nowhere close to replacing the idea of heaven. Maybe not, but it’s enough for me.
I’ll settle for the warm embrace inside my chest, her voice calling to me down a long hall.
It is grey, cold and windy and I can’t walk around because I slammed my toe into a bench and it looks like a plum this morning. I can’t put my shoes or socks on. Oh damn. Guess I’ll have to read all day.
The bad news is I read all the time anyway and have felt the need to go out and mingle in the Jungle. No can do. Shoot.
Anyhow, this got me to thinking about toes and wondering if toes have names like fingers. I know you all have been wondering this as well.
So–the big toe is called the big toe. Seems a bit redundant. The Latin for that is the hallux. The second, is the long toe, the third, I can’t remember and the fourth, the fore toe, or the fourth toe, which is stupid.
Anyway, my grandma on my Dad’s side (a German), had names for all the toes. They are: tomatut, schlechtaput, longieman, goolybrown, and little speezie-speillyman. These spellings are approximate.
So, in summary, I mangled my goolybrown.
Goolybrown went out for a walk
a walk,
a walk.
Goolybrown went out for a walk
on a cold and breezy day.
One day Gooly brown got hurt. Her owner jammed her into a big hard bench and Gooly cried ow, ow, ow. Gooly was angry and swelled up into a large purple plum. Purple plum throbbed and throbbed. With each heart beat, the plum throbbed. Gooly put her mother to bed with some wine and Tylenol and the next day was feeling some better. Not enough to put on shoes, but bearable.
Gooly brown reminded her owner to walk carefully, softly and carry a big stick. I don’t know if she really said to carry a big stick, but it seems appropriate.
Soon Gooly will feel better with rest and wine and join her toe friends for other adventures. Walk on Gooly, walk on.
These are very famous feet. Can you guess who? Can you spot Longyman?
Hello. Yes, this is Dog 