I might be becoming my mother... and it's not a bad thing!

After Lizzy's move to college (ROLL TIDE) back in August, I found myself alone in the house I grew up in... the house that my Mom called home for the last 35 years of her life before moving into an Alzheimer's care home. And although I pretty much totally overhauled the place, there isn't a day that goes by without something reminding me that this is Mom's house.

This was her happy place, and her yard was her pride and joy. God bless her, she couldn't make a decision about wallpaper in the Powder Room, but she damn sure knew how to root Azaleas, Camelias, and Oleanders in the big sand box up in the woods. She always had a project going, and on any given day, you'd find her pulling up the crab trap at the end of her dock, or declaring war on the Dollar Weeds in the front yard, or (my favorite) tending a raging fire in the burn pile at the front of the property, water hose in one hand, pitchfork in the other... very similar to this...

More than once since she's been home, my child has said, "Oh my god, Mom, you're turning into MeMe!"

And I think she's right.

Okay, so I'm like the half-assed, artsy, bird-brained, no-math-doing version, but still... I think she's on to something.

I really like flannel, Mom-jeans, and slip-on sneakers. The smooth feel of a pitchfork handle against my palm makes me feel like Triton, or Arya Stark... or at least one of the dudes from HeeHaw... either way, there's power in that handle, I tell ya.

So Mom's burn pile is kind of a big deal, and I've been putting it off for two years because I just didn't feel qualified to follow in her footsteps. Her size 7 Keds are HUGE shoes to fill. But today seemed like the day. The pile beckoned, and just like Louis Creed in King's Pet Semetary, I found myself gathering supplies (matches, paper towels, pitchfork, snippy cup of water... Mom always had sweet tea, and a water hose) and following the call of the pile.

I was fearful that it was too big, too wild, too moist... I worried that snakes may have made it their nest (nope, just a big ol' long tailed mouse that nearly made me piss myself)... I worried that it might get out of hand (two years worth of debris!) and I worried that the Savannah Fire Department might come charging up the driveway. But no, nothing bad happened. In fact, I felt like I spent three hours with my Mom.

So many things struck me as similar, even as I took a quick break and walked to the mailbox ... totally something she would've done. I guess there were only two major differences:

1) Mom would've been reading the newspaper while keeping an eye on the fire. I trolled Facebook, Instagram, and took selfies instead...

(I'm sorry, but if you give me a hose with a squirter attached, there WILL be lude texts sent to certain people. I CANNOT resist.)

And this...

2) Dammit Jet-Puffed, I couldn't help myself!

Other than those two differences (and one more than likely only being because Mom didn't have a smartphone), I'd say I channeled Judy pretty well today.

My hair smells like burnt leaves, I PROBABLY have a tick in my butt crack, and I keep blowing black stuff out of my nose.

Ah, the glamorous life of a Dhuland debutante!

❤ ya Mom!