Jilly Brandon

A blue and white checkered printed cotton reminds me of a crisp Spring day, with white  fluffy clouds dotting the azure  sky above.

A bed skirt is often the very last item thought about when adorning a bed.  In a short expanse of time  you realize there is nowhere on earth you will be able to hide what’s under the bed, lurking with the  dust bunnies.. unless you have one..

This skirt can mask many  things…that we don’t want seen, or that also what might be ugly…  For me, it is an excuse to deem it to be a vacuume free zone.. After all, first rule, if it can’t be seen it can’t be acknowledged to need cleaning.. it can’t be dirty.. it can be willfully ignored.  I’m aware that I’m in denial.

Full disclosure..

Same rule, I think is in effect for behind my stove, and underneath my fridge.  If I moved once a year, then it would get attention, but if I decided to relocate my earthly possessions every 10 years… then a mandatory sweeping, and scrubbing would ensue..then… but not before.

In the case of this particular bedskirt.. it’s been on a journey of international travel.  It has a story to tell.

Its life began in sunny Florida, where it adorned two matching single beds.  The quilt coverlet was intricately woven with soft yellows, powdered blues and white.  The palette was restful, and inviting.

This lovely home was owned by my friend Laura’s parents.  They decided to sell this house, and she ended up with various items from her parents home.

She, and her husband decided  to sell their home  in Colorado, and of course there needed to be a garage sale.. When I spied these items, I immediately thought that my Mum would really like them, so I bought them… or maybe Laura just insisted that I have them… and kindly just gave them to me…. I kinda forget that part..

I loaded them up  in my tiny red and black dotted vw bug, to my already, full to the limit storage unit, and there they hung, in a quiet corner, until my cross country pilgrimage this past November.

My storage unit suffered a bit of a ceiling leak on the one side,towards the front of the garage,  so I had to toss many of my personal bed linens, along with the matching coverlet  that matched the skirts.

The bedskirts had been dry cleaned,  and therefore were hanging across from the water laden area in the storage unit.. They  were unharmed.. so I kept them.. kinda strange that I did keep them,  come to think of it.

After moving Mum into “Memory Living,” just recently, I decided to utilize the bedskirt, and find a coordinating bedspread.  It is a soft plaid, with a touch of red, and light yellow.. all cotton..

Mum loves it…. it is comfortable , and light.

Now what  to do with the other one though?

I decided to purge a great deal of my clothing with my friend Kathy’s expertise, so the second bed skirt ended up in the donation bag.

One of the locations where I work is a large red brick beautiful old stately home, and the business upstairs is a consignment store for men, women and children.  Jess is the owner, and she does a splendid job curating it.

A gal that I work with, Lesley has shared with me, that her Mum is in Memory Care living in this area.  We have had several conversations about our “ Mums.”

A random thought cane  into my head, but maybe not so random, maybe just maybe, it was ordained, and I asked her if her Mum could use a blue checkered bedskirt?

Lesley  responded with an enthusiastic, “ yes, I think she would really love that, since her bedroom is decorated in those light blue colors.”

I hauled the “ traveling skirt” out of the back of the Volvo wagon, and off to Her Mum’s room it went.

Laura’s Mum, the original owner of the “skirt” is also in memory care.

These three ladies/Mothers/wives/aunts/nieces daughters/…. all share the same plight with dementia, and memory loss, but are connected now,  even though they may not realize it .  These bedskirts connect them through the fabric that has been shared.  I think this is really great, and it’s been a source of joy to our Mothers too.

This is Lesley’s Mum’s Room… and this is my Mum’s room…

This “fabric of our lives,” has been interwoven together across the miles, and two countries, and we are gently blended together as we share our life experiences with our Mothers, as they transition into this newest part of their lives.

I know these two women, Lesley and Laura, but they don’t know one another… yet… and still.. I feel as if our paths are meant to coincide, and we were supposed to be in this time together.

I have shared with both gals the sorrow of being present for our Moms’ as they adjust, and forget things they have before, always known.

It is our privilege to care for these Mothers of ours.  To care for those who once birthed us, and dried our tears, bathed us, bandaged up our scratches and scrapes, and worried over us.

It is our turn now to repay the favor.. It is the “ wash cycle” of life, that often leaves us in the repetitive “ spin  scenario,  ” and feeling like we have been wrung out by the myriad of emotions that we are experiencing.

When it comes to the dryer mode, we are tumbling about, hoping to emerge smelling fresh, and lint free, but usually… there is a static electricity that somehow makes that one sock.. cling annoyingly  to a black tee shirt … like it has a mind if it’s own.

We all know what it’s like when you toss that too big comforter into the dryer, and the machine attempts to move  recklessly about the floor, trying to escape the  large load that it’s carrying.

Our loads are meant to be shared.. It really does help…so much.. to know there are others out there living a similar life experience as I do.. to speak with them, discuss, cry, and commiserate is such a blessing.. I am grateful.

New friends… life journeys that enrich..not having to do it alone, and choosing to unload my laundry with another.  To be able to receive help, guidance, and a shoulder to lean on, when my laundry basket feels full with miscellaneous memories that don’t seem to fit into my drawers.

Finding new connections with another is so fulfilling..

Laura, has been my “ partner in crime,” and dear friend for over 20 years.  She trusted me to still take her kindergartener son, Travis, back and forth to school, even though, I was pulled over twice in one day for speeding.. We  have been through the thick and even more thick of things.. It has been such an extreme blessing to do life with her.  She is up, and game for anything.. She gives me sound advice, and we  pray over and for each other often.

I feel as if I’m now my Mum’s age, meaning, I always thought growing up, especially when my parents celebrated their 25th anniversary, in their 50’s that “ they were so old.”  It turns out that on the inside I still am the same, and I realize too that our Mums’ are the same too… on the inside.. and that is what counts…..preserving their dignity.. and remembering for them…it would be what I would want someone to do for me.

I’m thinking this is becoming the follow up to “The sisterhood of the traveling pants..”…. I do declare that we are due for a sequel…with a new title, ” The sisterhood of the traveling bedskirts.”