7/100

I had coffee with a friend yesterday, someone I haven’t sat down and talked with for a few months. She asked me a lot of questions about this process, how I feel about it now, how it’s changed me, what I was feeling about my mother.

About my mother? Mostly, I am missing her. As difficult as it was, especially toward the end, I miss calling her every day. I miss knowing I could almost always get a smile out of her with some of Louise’s homemade brownies or cookies. “Mmmmm,” she’d say. “Good.” She always nodded “yes” when I asked if she wanted me to make her a cup of tea. I used the same cup every time, one that she liked because it stayed warm for a long time. She would hold the cup in both hands while the tea cooled, then gulp it down like she was dying of thirst. I began to think she bore a startling resemblance to the owl on the cup.

Gina's tea cup

I miss the woman from before, as well – the strong, capable and beautiful woman who mothered me as best she could, and taught me, somehow, that I could do anything I set my mind to. Most of the time, I feel pretty good about who I am. While I can trace the most troublesome aspects of my being back to her, I also see that much of the good started with my mother as well.

I told my friend I do feel changed. When I started giving away $100 bills, I hoped to reset my brain and shake off some of the miserly habits that clung to me like old rags. It’s happening, in fits and starts. I find myself worrying less about money. I am able to see more clearly the difference between frugality and cheapness. Frugal: going out for Happy Hour. Cheap: leaving a crappy tip. Frugal: stocking up on my favorite brand of laundry detergent when it’s on sale. Cheap: driving across town to save 3¢ per gallon on gas. I’m starting to get it!

Anyway, I was a few minutes early for my coffee date and decided to walk around a bit. A MAX train was arriving just as I crossed the street, and I watched the people getting off. A young woman caught my eye. She stepped off the platform with a purposeful stride, wriggled into her backpack and started up the street. There was an openness about her, but she seemed strong rather than vulnerable. Solid. She ducked into Starbucks and I followed. I heard her order a grande white chocolate mocha. A familiar voice inside me wondered, “Four dollars to spare for coffee?” But I was really pleased to hear a louder voice that said, “Cool. I bet she’ll enjoy that.”

A couple of other people came into the shop and I stepped outside to wait. I saw the young woman getting her headphones out of her backpack, untangling them while balancing her coffee cup. As she walked by I said hi. “Is it okay if I talk with you for a minute?” She looked me in the eye and said it was. I asked if she was headed home and she said she was going to work. At a dog groomer’s. “Oh, that’s gotta be really hard!” I said. (It would be torture for me. Not much smells worse than a wet dog.) She smiled. “I work the desk, it’s okay.” Close up, I saw that she was younger than I had realized.

“I’m honoring my mother today”, I said. “I’d like to give you something.” Her eyes flew open. “Oh! I read about you in the newspaper! We did a whole unit on this in my class at Grant!” I gave her the C-note and we laughed. She said her high school accounting class had done a unit on generosity. She never expected this to happen!

Her name was Makaila. She said I could take her picture and write about her on the blog. She was all smiles. Wait till the class hears about this!

Perfect. My mother would love being at the heart of this journey.

Makaila