Today as I write, I am not so much giving insights to caregiving as memories.  I can’t help it.  Whenever I see tomatoes I think of my mom.  

There are always those little things that pop up that for good or bad turns up a memory.  My mom always had a habit or using the ‘reminder’ button.  “Don’t forget to turn off the lights.”  “Don’t forget to close the windows before the rain.”  She also  gave the ‘warning’ signal before it was invented.  It didn’t matter where in the country bad weather was or where you were – she would call and give you a warning.  I didn’t have to turn on the radio or the TV…I had ‘mom weather’. 

Once, I had just started working for a small newspaper when on one of those awful weather days the tornado sirens went off.  Electricity went out.  We were on generators and only one phone line was working.  The phone rang and all the reporters and department heads hoover around it as it was picked up.  This was a newsworthy moment.  The staff person answered and said “One moment…”  As all the necks reach out to hear the staff person yell  “Is there….and then my name.”  Everyone looked around repeating my name in wonderment as to who this person may be…must be important…the only phone call that came in and…then the next words came out of the staff person….”it’s your mom.”   I died.  Yep. That was my mom.

It also happened in California when I was in college.  I was called out of class for an important phone call.  It was my mom.  She wanted to know if I was ok from the earthquake.  Earthquake?   I found out later there was one in a far part of Eastern Europe, being in California…my mom just wanted to be sure I was ok.  Yep, that was my mom.  As much as it could irritate me…it was one of the things I missed after she died.  To this date my brother and I will call each other on an approaching storm…”secure the battle hatches…it’s a big one comin” and then laugh. 

That is what happened with the tomato plant.  I had just moved into a new house with a small garden.  My mom grew up with gardens that her mother and her siblings tended.  Those gardens took them through the depression years.  My grandfather had died and my grandmother had four children to raise.  The only source of income was working as a cook for a wealthy family in Boston.  She did not make much and had to travel quite the distance on city buses.  But she was able to provide for the family and stretch the household budget with the garden.  Not only were there vegetables but fruit trees and a flower garden.  It was always a good memory for my mom.  So for a house warming gift my mom gave me a tomato plant. 

Now that tomato plant….I will admit that I did not go running out to plant it that day.  It may have taken a few days.  I was busy with work and unpacking.  But as it sat in its container waiting to be planted I did water it…after all it was just outside my back door.  Each day my mom would call…”have you planted it yet? “   At first they were pleasant questions…and as the days progressed they became more comments about what would happen if it was not planted.  To my reaction I would argue that it was planted in a pot and it will be just fine until I can get it into the garden and after all – go to any garden nursery and there will be plenty of tomato plants not in the ground!  Of course that was not the right answer…but she was now nagging me and I was reacting.   I finally planted it, thinking that now no more tomato calls.  Silly me.

Each day…did you water the tomato plant.. calls?  Each day when the phone rang I dreaded the question. But if I did not answer the phone…the questions/comments would be on the answering machine.   Finally late one night I lost it.   In my pj’s getting ready for an early night sleep since I had an early morning work meeting.   I was standing in the kitchen answering the phone. It was my mom.  I was worry because of the lateness of the call something must be wrong.  No, it was her daily tomato question:  “Mom!  I am an adult!  I have had gardens.  I have had plants.  I have had flowers.  I KNOW how and WHEN to water plants.  AS for this TOMATO PLANT…YES!  IT IS WATER AND DO NOT CALL ME AGAIN ASKING ABOUT IF THE STUPID PLANT WAS WATERED!!!!  With that she said she was sorry to be a mom and after all I should be thankful…and so on and so forth…the creed of all mothers that they will throw at you.  We hung up.  It was past 10:30 pm and dark outside.  I stood there staring down at my slippers.  SHOOT!  In other words…I had lied.  I did not water it. I then marched outside and turn on the hose and watered that stupid tomato plant!!! 

That plant did not thrive.  It was a very, very sad looking plant.  My aunt had come over for a July 4^th picnic and was the first time she really got to see the new place.  I gave her a tour and when we came to the garden…she looked down at the pitiful tomato plant, looked up at me she burst out laughing!  Yep, she knew…just like her sister…I did not water it as much as I should have.  But unlike her sister (at least this time) she never said a word about it to my mom or me again. 

The years have gone by, but as I said when I began this story…whenever I see a tomato I think of my mom.  I still grow tomato plants.  Most of the time the plants thrive and I yield a good bounty for wonderful salad toppers, BLT sandwiches or addition to the pesto that I add on pasta.  Unlike my mom, I do not put my plants in the ground.  I plant them in containers.  I have had more success that way.  I am assured of the dirt.  Whenever too much or not enough sun…I can move them around.  That includes the rain too!  Some years are better than others.  Last year, my first time on my new deck I grew…a stick.  Got up to a yard high…finally bloomed one flower then a big storm blew in and…well it was a nice stick.  AND a well-watered stick!

It is important to remember those moments with our love ones.  At first it may not be a pleasant moment.  But later, through this incredible or amazing event you will find your own laughter, smile or just a sense of relief.  Our love ones are just that.  Love.  But in the mist of caregiving it does not seem like that.  Yet, when you go to any support group…you will hear the laughter.  The sharing of incredible or amazing stories that you wonder how could they take it.  Then you realize…they can’t…but sharing gives voice.  And voice gives hope.  And hope reminds you that there is love.

This year, my plant has a number of blooms that have already become little green tomatoes.  When I looked out my window this morning I noticed one had bloomed.  I smiled.  As I finish this memory, the clouds are getting darker and ready to burst.   Thankfully I have secured the battle hatches but surprised that I have not received a call from my brother yet….maybe I need to call him?  And then we can laugh!