ButterTree & Biscuits

Since my parents started spending months at a time in Mexico, I’ve become increasingly fascinated with Día de los muertos. For those of you who don’t know, it’s a day when Mexican families make offerings (called ofrendas) on an altar to their loved ones who have passed. I’ve always loved the idea of celebrating life rather than mourning death — loved the idea that memories keep people alive.

I wanted to try something a little different for this Wednesday’s ButterTree and Biscuits... If you’ve been following my blog posts, you know that books and stories have always been the frame through which I see the world. You know that I fell in love with books when I was a little girl, after being read to by my mom each night.

My mom met my dad in a college residence — she would often visit a friend of hers there. My mom remembers the first time she laid eyes on my dad. It was in the morning after a party, and he hadn’t gone to bed. He’d also gotten a perm on a dare and looked dishevelled overall. Needless to say, it wasn’t a winning first impression. 

This past weekend, I had the honour and privilege of watching my friend of almost twenty years  marry her longtime boyfriend. It was a perfect fall day . . . We were blanketed by a quilt of greens, yellows and reds. There were horse drawn carriages, wood cabins and vintage string lights hung in the trees. The bride wore her hair down with a flower crown and a flowy white dress — looking beautiful and whimsical as she walked down the aisle, as her train picked up the fall leaves.

Holidays can be difficult for people — whether it be complicated family dynamics, grieving a loss, financial struggles, or being far away from home. Journaling has always been an extremely powerful tool for me, and there’s always been an increased sense of presence in the fall that lends itself well to reflection. In the way that squirrels collect acorns for the winter, I feel like I can do the same on an emotional level. I can ask myself: What routines are going to help me get through the colder seasons? Who do I want to be around? Who or what do I want to focus my energy on? 

My mom used to tell me about how she always dreamed of being a mother, but also of having a little girl. She said she loved dressing me up and braiding my hair . . . that she especially loved decorating my childhood bedroom. I had a white canopy bed, a collection of porcelain dolls and a Victorian style dollhouse. I had a wicker chair and a shelf with all the classic children’s books. My room was always a talking point when people would visit, and I was often told how lucky I was to have such a beautiful space of my very own. 

My earliest memories are of sitting on her knee, nuzzled close, taking in the scent of her perfume. She was one of the few people outside my immediate family with whom I could feel this level of comfort.