Love Notes

My friend, Pam, just emailed me a copy of a treasure she found this week while rummaging through a box of old photos in preparation for her family reunion. She found a handwritten note from my mother. And then we followed with a back-and-forth dialogue about my mother's letters -- her swirly-loopy penmanship and so many, many other details that were uniquely and utterly ... my mom.

My mother was known for writing notes and letters. She had a collection of cards she purchased that could have stocked a few Hallmark stores. They were for almost every occasion -- a few special favorites were the funny Maxine cards, and cards with pictures of cute little girls, Victorian ladies and Springer Spaniels. One thing you could count on if you got a card from Lorrie Frager was a lipstick stamp on the flap of the envelope (and one on the card itself if there was room) and lots of "xxoo's".

In my childhood world I remember those notes popping up everywhere -- sometimes they were tucked into our lunch bags, tacked on the mirror where we dressed every day, on a pile of folded laundry or even under the pillow. Her favorite thing to say was "Have I told you lately that I love you?" (Yes, Mom, you did.)

She scratched out her notes often and in so many different ways I have absolutely no doubt that she did love me -- a lot. What I am reminded of by Pam's discovery today is another expanded (but not surprising) view of how much she loved so many people, and what a mark she made on their hearts by those loopy letters of hers. These little notes keep on popping up in the strangest places and at the most random times. But never a minute too soon and always welcome.

My mother used to wear a Revlon berry-pink shade of frosted lipstick as her standard favorite. After a few applications, the lipstick in the tube was formed into a perfect slant to one side. She applied her lipstick about 50 times a day, I think, and one out of every three of those times, she reminded me to go put some on myself. (God forbid, I might be seen with bare lips!) She'd would blot her lips on a tissue afterward. Often, when rummaging through her bottomless pit of a purse, I would come across quite a collection of these Kiss You Tissues.

Those gorgeous lip marks were her signature "I love yous" at the end of all the little messages she wrote in the 68 short years of her life. Once, a long time ago, I tried to trace her handwriting so I could feel, maybe, what she did when the words came out of her hand. I couldn't pull it off. But now when I compose my own handwritten notes for those I love, I remember the feeling of it all and what it meant. And then, I sign with the loopiest signature possible and leave a lipstick kiss at the bottom, too. Some traditions are definitely worth passing on...

xxoo