When giving directions to the nearest Home Depot in Minneapolis, I would have used exits and freeways, but points of reference change, and here, living in France, our favorite lumber yard is just across from where Mary Magdalene is buried. It’s funny how easily that became my new “just off of 494.” 

Our points of reference change constantly. And life can become pretty difficult when we cling to the old normals. And that’s not to say we don’t hold things dear. Everything with my mother I hold dear. Everything. But there is always room for more. I have had to trust a new woman to be my first view as I create a painting. Another to Wordle with. To share a book. A tear. Sweet, sweet laughter. And while 494 is still there, I travel new paths. Create new normals, new what-ifs, new wanders. I get lost for sure, but then something takes hold, and I am in a new pageant, led by Mary to the wood I need to frame my creations. 

The first time my mother and I went to a Home Depot, it was to look for shelving for an upcoming art show. We had just been to the Anthropologie nearby. Still getting high on our own fashion supply, we stood in front of the seemingly endless racks of choice. Fork lift fumes and backward beeps sent us spinning in circles. She looked at me and said, “We’re leaving, aren’t we.” (It wasn’t a question.) Overwhelmed, we sat in the parking lot, and she told me the same thing as when I came home from the children’s Bethesda Christmas pageant practice, once again to play the part of not Mary, but Mary Magdalene — “aaaaah, you’re still in the pageant!” It became our slogan whenever we were feeling lost. We laughed. Hard.  I smile now when I think about how overwhelming it seemed and how easy it became. She is still navigating me through all of my new normals, with a pageantry of love and laughter.