Mother's Birthday- what we did in my dream

Last night I had a dream about Glosser Brothers department store and Johnstown.  Mother and I were on the ground level looking at shoes and trying to find a shirt for Daddy for Father's Day (even though it was winter- there was a sale)  Collar size 13 1/2 or maybe 18? the number is blurry (Mother- is that right?  If so why in the world do I remember that?)

Anyway, I was home for a visit and Mother was telling me that I should respect Johnstown and the memories of it.  I was trying to explain that I didn't disrespect Johnstown, I just preferred places that were not-Johnstown.    I traded my boots (high heeled fabulous boots that I would love to own in real life) for dark brown rainbow sandals.  Then I woke up.  (We did find a shirt- it was not white, not pale yellow, but somewhere in between).

And this morning I am nostalgic, and it is Mother's 90th birthday, and no one is left in Johnstown- which makes me sad in an abstract way.  Johnstown is our home town, even though we are scattered across the everywhere- but it is not Johnstown as it is now, but the ghost of how it was.  Street cars and steel mills, blast furnaces lighting the sky, dirty snow downtown and the clean ice of the mountains.  Glosser Brothers with its many floors- the basement had bargains and groceries, the first floor perfume, shoes, on up to clothing, housewares, and hardware stashed somewhere towards the top.  Old metal escalators with steps like teeth- one person at a time, no rows here. Painted windows for Halloween, decorated to the hilt for Christmas (though not quite as elaborate as Penn Traffic's, and nothing like the big Kaufmans and Macy's in Pittsburgh).   Department stores with restaurants or at least a coffee shop, and the mezzanine where you could look out at the crowds below.  Revolving doors. So much more fun than Walmart, but actually walmartish in a way- everything could be had at one place.  I miss the old department stores.

I miss Mother, too.  I wish I could teleport or time travel or just magic up a way to sit and talk and see everything- as it was- one last time.  But that is what dreams are for, and I am gifted with those (I can hear the way the city snow sounds when you step on it- the top dark layer of cinders and salt is crunchy, like a shell.  The snow underneath has been partially melted and refrozen, it is hard and makes a mean snow/ice ball).

Today Mother is safe in Texas, and I am imagining her watching the deer, talking to Sue, having lobster and the elaborate strawberry cake-thing.    The rest of us, we go about our lives in our own places, we are the trees that remember the roots.

Happy Birthday Mother!  Thank-you for making us the people we are today- all of us.  We love you!