Cool as a cucumber

    I never knew my mother, persay.  Because of her illness I eventually had the task (it really was a gift) of cobbling together memories, and anecdotes from friends in attempt to assemble this person.
   One of the people I interviewed or spoke with was my mom's dear friend, Marian Timothy.  Marian lived three houses down from my grandparents and was not only close to my mother's age but had a brood of children much like my mother did. (Marian wasn't as brave as my mom, though. She had three to my mother's four). They sparked a quick friendship due to our frequent visits to my grandparent's home in Raleigh.  Marian knew my mother before she got sick, and later took on a HUGE role in my mother's rehabilitation, and recovery.
   Leaning back on Marian's gold damask couch that afternoon, pausing only to sip her coffee I vividly remember Marian's story of meeting my mother for the first time. 

    "I think she had brought Sheila, who was a year younger than Liz, " she reminded me.  (Marian's children Marjory, Liz and David mirrored my mother's four kids in age)  "And I just remember your mother wore white.  It floored me, you know because I knew she had four young children- and you know, white was just off limits.  It was a white sleeveless sheath and a purse to match.  We had coffee and chatted.  And then I remember your mother had to go for some reason, and she called out to your sister who was playing in the sun room."
     Marian gestured behind us, as I knew the house quite well myself having played in it many summer vacations in a row.  The sun room was no longer filled with toys, as it had been when we were children but instead now housed many books and large houseplants.  I nodded in acknowledgement.  Marian continued,
     " Your sister did not want to leave, and your mom called out again.  This time she rose quietly, and thanked me graciously for the coffee.  She walked into the sun room and your sister  abruptly threw herself on the floor and began kicking, and screaming.  Virginia scooped her up in one deft move, shifted her purse to her other hand, and thanked me again. We walked to the door, as your sister continued to scream, but by this point was was basically rendered immobile under your mother's right arm. I watched from the window as your mother swiftly walked the few hundred feet to your grandparent's house with her parcel. I will never forget that," she smiled at me then.
"She was cool as a cucumber."