The Butler

July

The windows are down, but there’s no wind blowing through my hair right now and I can smell the pungent odor of the bay. Mimi would actually have to be doing the speed limit for me to even get a small gust, but I am okay with that because it would probably amplify the smell coming in. Most people would be disgusted with the scent, but for me it means we’ve almost reached Wildwood. I’m used to the extended drive down the beach, but Mim hates taking highways or main roads so it takes longer than usual. That means for the past two hours I’ve been staring at farmland. It sounds worse than it is. I love the view of the beautiful orchards splattered with color from all the fruits and vegetables growing out in the fields. While we drive Mimi tells me stories of when she was younger and talks about how much everything has changed. Like how the road me and my mom would normally take to drive down, Rt. 347, didn’t even exist when my family first bought the house down Wildwood. She reminisces about when the house was still new, a one story house with red shingle siding and a white roof. The porch has a little gate at the top of the steps to keep all the children inside and away from the street. We’re one of the lucky houses with our own driveway and it leads right to the backyard. When we finally pull the car in, the first thing I notice is our shed that stores all of our beach supplies. Growing up, Mimi and my Aunt Anne always called it a "hoodle" and to this day I’m still not sure it’s a real word. I try to imagine what it would have been like to grow up in the same time period as Mim. It’s hard to imagine, but these car rides together make it seem more real and it’s some of the best times we have together.

September

As I step off the school bus I’m immediately greeted with the warm embrace and shining face of the sun. Every afternoon begins the same, strolling down Saville Ave. and making a right onto 13th. I can already see the charming rose bush that grows along Mimi’s walkway from the top of the street where I stand. My favorite is on windy days when the scent is carried in the wind and overwhelms your senses even following you into the house. Mimi’s house always smelled like fresh flowers with an underlying smell of the Busch beer she drank like water, and always kept well stocked in her 1950s style refrigerator. All of the house was decorated with care to reflect Mimi’s warm and easygoing personality and filled with constant reminders of times past. Making my way into the living room my eyes immediately fall to my favorite part of the house, the china cabinet where all the Hummel dolls are kept. Mimi had a Hummel collection to be rivaled. The cabinet is filled with small children, and a family, a woman with a parasol, and my favorite, the Butler. He is handsome figurine with a childlike face and rosy cheeks and stands about 10 inches tall. He is dressed as if he is preparing to serve tea to the queen of England with a towel draped over his left arm and holding a bottle of wine in his right. I don’t know why, but I’m always drawn to his charm and love to just sit and look at the dolls. I could spend a whole afternoon staring at the Hummels and coming up with stories behind what they were doing, thinking or where they might be going. I begin to imagine the family was preparing to go out for a picnic in the afternoon sun and that my butler was getting them ready to be on their way.

Sitting on the sofa I’m cuddled up with Mimi and a blanket while I Love Lucy reruns play on the TV. We spend most afternoons laughing until our bellies ache from Lucy’s crazy antics. Today she’s making, or at least trying to make, a loaf of bread, but it quickly overtakes her kitchen. Thankfully, our kitchen never gets as crazy as Lucy’s and soon it’s time to begin cooking dinner. We always start by taking out our ingredients first, so I find myself headed towards the cabinets first for the dry items and then the refrigerator. Tonight is one of my favorites, mashed potatoes. Mimi makes the best mashed potatoes you’ll ever have the luck to taste. It always starts out with all the typical ingredients, potatoes, milk, salt and pepper, and butter, but Mim adds a special magic to them that brings a whole new meaning to comfort food. The room is surrounded by a warmth, brought from not just the oven, but our love of being together and the smell is heavenly. The scent of a roast in the oven is savory and makes my mouth water and the bread toasting smells sweet. We compliment each other going back and forth arranging food to be prepared, cooked, and plated. I follow Mim’s lead and experience in the kitchen, hoping to be as good of a cook as her one day. When we are in the kitchen together we’re able to create more than just meals, we create memories.

December

Walking into Mim’s house Christmas Day I’m immediately transported into Dicken’s village. I have a bird’s eye view of the beloved town of Tiny Tim and his family, making me feel as though I’m soaring through the sky. Small brick houses decorated for Christmas with tiny wreaths on the doors and candles in the window take root temporarily on the table set up and the miniature characters are all bundled up in hats and scarfs as though preparing for a bitter winter. Their choice of clothing makes sense since the town is coated in a layer of glittering fake snow. I’m dressed in my Sunday best and despite knowing what my gift will be I’m excited to be here celebrating with family. Every year my sisters and I get the same gifts from Mimi, a Christmas card, and an American Express gift card. When we were younger Mim would take the time to think about each of us and our personalities, but she knows as teenagers cash is the best gift you can give. My brother is the exception to this rule, I suppose Mim figures he’s still young enough because every year without fail Timmy gets this year's edition of the Hess truck. The room is filled with the sound of laughter and conversation as we each discuss what “Santa” had brought us earlier in the day. We all joke, enjoy each other’s company and live by the saying “The present is the best present.” We know that we are fortunate to have each other and this time spent together.

May

As I’m trudging down the hallway towards Mimi’s hospital room I feel like I am walking to the gallows, the walls are whitewashed and I can hear the lights humming. They sound like a swarm of worker bees and look just as harsh. It smells unnaturally clean like bleach and rubber and I feel the scent permeate my nose and burn my nostrils just a tinge. The doctor is trying to be comforting, but there is no way to be positive in this setting. He tell us it’s pneumonia and the prognosis worsens because upon further testing they find lung cancer as well. It’s difficult to see Mim looking so small and frail being dwarfed by the surrounding machinery and large bed. The doctors inform us that regrettably there isn’t much they can do except to make her as comfortable as possible. However, the comfort comes at a cost and the hospital bills keep growing and eventually we move Mim to a hospice facility. It brings back a feeling of home with colorful flowers by the bed and a painting of a park bustling with people on the wall, but it’ll never truly be Mim’s home.

Back at her house my Uncle Tom begins to sort through her personal items and decide what to save, what to sell, and what to trash. Going through her personal items brings memories of both happy and sad occasions. He found her old engagement ring, an antiqued cushion cut with a halo around it, small but beautiful just like my Mimi. It’s no easy task to sort through someone else’s life especially without them there to guide you, what would Mim want most? How can you put a price on people’s memories, does it lose its value if she can’t remember the whole story behind the items or isn’t there anymore to cherish them?

That August Mim passed away without ever having seen her home again.

The Following December

Uncle Tom came by early in the morning with his arms full of gifts and packages wrapped brightly with ribbons cascading down like waterfalls and bows bursting off the boxes. It was our first Christmas without Mim and he came well stocked and prepared for all his nieces and nephews that he would see that day. I was last to receive my gift from him and it was easily one of the smaller packages. It came simply wrapped, just a plain silver bag with blue tissue paper sticking up out of the top. It was fairly weighted in my hands and I was surprised and couldn’t imagine what it could be inside this tiny bag that weighed so much. Removing the tissue paper and dropping it to the ground I was able to see clearly, if just for a moment through the tears that began to flow, inside the bag was my butler! He had been saved and survived the sorting. I was so surprised and elated to have a piece of Mimi with me and not just any memory it was the most important butler! I had wondered what became of her small towns people and village, as well as some of her other knick knacks and beloved decor. The one thing I was most curious about however, was my butler. Many of Mim’s Hummels had not made it through the sorting process, but my favorite managed to not only survive but it was going to be mine!

Tears still streaming down my face, I feel my chest lift as if though a five pound weight was removed. Losing someone is always difficult, but sometimes even the smallest of gestures can lessen the brute force of the pain that's felt. For me that small gesture was when my uncle gave me back a part of Mimi. I still feel the heaviness and pressure of losing her, but this lessens the blow. My Aunt Mimi means the world to me and although I’m unable to spend time with her in the same way I used to, having the Hummel doll gives me a new way to feel close to her. I know that the Butler will never cook with me or laugh along to I Love Lucy, but having him allows me to go back to when Mim and I could do those things. I believe through his eyes Mimi keeps watch over me and having the Butler in my china cabinet gives me a piece of her to hold onto. I often look back to my Hummel and think about all the good times we had together during my afternoons at her house and imagine once more that he’s preparing for an afternoon picnic under a rose bush, but this time for me and Mimi.