Today, I am missing my Mother

My Mother died in 1994. She lost her fight with breast cancer while I was waging war on mine.
Still, some days, I miss her so much my body aches. I am here, at home where we raised our children, unable to quell the pit in my stomach. That homesick, I miss my Mother feeling of childhood when you are away from her and nothing feels settled until you are in her arms.
Although I am a New Englander, I am not a stiff upper lipped, bucked up little camper. I have given it a good shot, and you might think having grown up with three brothers things would be different, but they are not.
My Grandfather was a dentist. Children who came to his office got to choose a treat on the way out the door. I always chose a pretty gem ring and a badge. There were two choices in the badge department. "I can take it" or "I am a brave Captain in the Good Health Club". I always chose the latter, because truth be told even as a child there were days I felt I just couldn't take it.
As life went on with it's unforeseen detours, I learned to quietly repeat to myself, "I can take it". I also became living proof that I am a brave Captain in the good health club.
So on a day like today, when I would give everything for a visit with my Mom, I poach an egg. The breakfast, that was the most repulsive to me as a child (jellyfish on toast) gives me comfort. I think most days, my Mother would poach herself an egg, mid-morning. So maybe a poached egg is as close as I can get. I can use her silver, put on her pearls, spritz Chanel #5 until I gasp, look at her photographs and try hard to remember the feel of her cheek close to mine.