I split one outfit between the two small geese so they are all dressed to some degree.

One of the geese is always naked.

I thought I had taken all of the clothes mom had collected or made for her decorative lawn geese. They were quite a focus of hers for a long time—she handmade their outfits. Once I took her to the home of an elderly lady whose hobby/income was making clothes for lawn geese. I didn’t know such a person existed and she and mom had a great time comparing notes. Mom left with two outfits that day.

Now that I have the geese, and now that I’m trying to remember to dress them for the various holidays and seasons in memory of mom—one more way to keep her spirit with me—I’m realizing how much creativity and effort went into these pieces. It makes me wish I worked with my hands, learned how to sew. I know that I can still learn and should, and maybe I will, but it’s easier to say than to find time to actually do. But I should find the time.

And even though our hall closet is filled with outfits—many designed for spring and summertime, with flower designs and sun hats, I know that she had a Halloween costume of a witch that I’m missing. And I think she made a pumpkin, too. I’m pretty sure Santa was included in the wardrobe and these are pieces I do not have.

Somewhere along the way she adopted a third goose, another small one. At her request, during two separate visits, I had painted the other two geese, transforming them from gray cement to the more believable versions with yellow bills and webbed feet. I don’t know when the third one joined the family, but I did not get the chance to paint him for mom. He (she?) is also the one missing the most clothes. While most of the outfits were made for the big goose, when she took on the smaller goose, mom made many matching outfits. This third goose, unpainted and naked most of the time, is like the “red-headed stepchild” of the trio. But I’m sure he had clothes when he was at mom’s house. She wouldn’t have let him on the porch with the others without proper dressing.

The other day, I had a dream during an afternoon nap. While I cannot recall the actions of the dream, I know it included some form of mom and dad, I know that they had died, and the dream left me feeling existentially lonely to my very marrow. It’s a feeling—an awareness—I would not be able to carry constantly in my waking days…it would be too difficult (I have some experience with that that I’ve written about before). Gratefully, I awoke from my nap and that desperate despair dissipated like fog.

But what to do about a naked goose—that beloved physical object that ties me to my mom’s memory and creativity. I suppose they will never be as coordinated as they once were.