My mom still has my back

This thought came to me recently as I out for a walk on a cold winter’s day. It’s been nearly 20 years since my mom passed away at the way-too-young age of 69. Yet, it feels like my mom still has my back. I realize that might sound weird, but I can’t think of any way to explain what happened to me this winter. 

A couple of months ago, I fell on a patch of ice and broke my wrist. The doctor set the wrist with a huge plaster cast. Apart from the obvious pain and inconvenience, I had other issues to deal with. For one thing, I could not wear any of my usual winter gear.  None of my jackets fit over the cast, except for one fall jacket which was not warm enough to wear in winter. Gloves and mittens did not fit either. Winter was just starting, and in our Quebec climate, not wearing a winter jacket and gloves is not an option. So, I had to find something to wear. 

The old green jacket

I recalled that I had an old jacket of my mom’s at the cottage. After my mom died, I donated her clothes to charity. This jacket must have been in the cedar closet and it wasn’t until years later when my dad moved that I came across the jacket and decided to keep it. I don’t know why I even kept it. For one thing, it’s ugly; it’s also huge on me; I do remember that at one point, my mom fell while wearing it and tore a hole in the left sleeve. As a result, it has a patch where my mom patched the tear. I kept the jacket at the cottage and over the years it’s been an extra jacket that my hubby has used when his regular jackets are soaked from shovelling or snowshoeing. I never wore it because it is quite large. In spite of its shortcomings, it is a warm jacket since it’s down-filled.

A couple of weeks after my accident, I headed to the cottage intent on trying the jacket. Sure enough, it easily slipped over the cast. Oddly enough, I broke my left wrist. So now my broken wrist was right under my mom’s hand-stitched patch. I visualized my mom protecting my wrist. A few weeks after the fall, I had surgery. The surgeon replaced the huge cast with a smaller one. Yet, this cast also did not fit in my other jackets. Neither did the arm brace that replaced the second cast. As a result, I spent the bulk of this crappy winter, cradled by my mom’s jacket. Every time I put on the jacket, I gave a small prayer of thanks to my mom. 

New winter wardrobe

To round off my “new to me” winter jacket, my sweet neighbour Ann (who wrote one of the letters to my pre-pandemic self) lent me a beautiful pair of wool mittens. These mittens were handmade in Newfoundland many years ago. We were supposed to visit Newfoundland in 2020, but COVID put a stop to everyone’s travel plans.  My winter 2020 wardrobe was now complete.

The arm brace is now gone and my arm is back to its normal state. I’ve gone back to wearing my usual winter jacket. I will cherish the old green jacket. It helped me face a cold, stressful winter with a smile knowing that my mom still has my back.

N.B. I have wanted to write about this for weeks, but couldn’t find a phrase to capture my feelings. Last week I was speaking with my good friend Stephanie, who’s an incredibly talented writer and journalist. During the course of our slightly rambling conversation, I told her about the green jacket. Stephanie exclaimed “oh, Sonia! your mom still has your back!” Bingo! Thank you, Stephanie!