The other night I had rolled over and closed my eyes for not more than two minutes when I heard my mom’s voice clear as day say “Margot.” I snapped my eyes open because I thought she was right next to me. I haven’t heard my mom’s voice in six years. It startled me. And made me cry. She sounded young and strong and very much alive. I wondered was she visiting me somehow?
It was comforting and alarming all at once. It made me long for her. So many things do. But hearing her voice again even if it was some weird fluke of my nearly asleep mind was wonderful.
I don’t have many recordings of her, especially before she had cancer. When she was strong. And fierce. And powerful. And the sound of her lingered with me for the rest of the night.
I’m not sure why it happened. Or if it will happen again. But I heard her. I felt her presence. It could have been my imagination. But in that moment I remembered her so vividly. The mom who raised me. Who held me. Who loved me so unconditionally. What a miracle to have had her as my mom for as long as I did.
Mom – wherever you are out there – I still hear you. I will, always.
