My momma Hattie May Banks, well, she was a southern woman born, bred and raised in Mississippi. In fact, she never once in her whole life stepped outside the magnolia state. Momma had one of those round full faces that always bore a warm and cheerful smile. She was a kindly soul who made everyone she encountered feel welcome with her true southern hospitality. She greeted everyone with a tip of her head, a cherubic grin, an enthusiastic wave, and a “Howdy Y’all;” followed by an invite onto to the porch for lemonade.  In our house, you could count on saying your prayers, and going to church every single Sunday. Our home was filled with love, laughter and good old traditional southern cooking. In fact Momma’s cornbread was famous and known as the best around. But, in my opinion, it was her pecan pie that made your mouth water.

As the youngest, I got to spend more quality time with my mother than my older siblings did. When I was little my momma would squeeze me in the biggest hugs, surrounding me with her large arms, as well as the wealth of her love. While hugging me she would firmly kiss the side of my face. Then she would ask me, “Do you feel the love my little Lilly?”
In my youthful innocence, I would faithfully proclaim, “I do feel the love Ma’am, I do feel it.” I would state it as emphatically as a minister preaches his sermon.

Momma would softly whisper, “Then baby I want you to close your eyes remember what it feels like. In your mind I want you to take a picture of this moment. After you take your picture I want you to put it in your pocket, Lillian. That way my precious little one, you will always have a pocket full of love.”

As we matured, Momma would recite this on an almost daily basis, not only to me, but to my brothers as well. As we grew, this taught us to appreciate the small moments, to revel in them and enjoy them. She would tell us, “Then you have those wonderful memories to get you through the hard times.” The older I got Momma would briefly remind me to appreciate things by asking me, “Did you put it in your pocket Lilly?” She reminded us all of this so often, that my siblings and I sometimes would be impatient in our replies. Irritated with the incessant reminders, we would roll our eyes, yet faithfully respond, “Yes mother I remembered.”

When I had a child, I realized what a wonderful custom had been created with the, put it in your pocket tradition. So I decided it was a legacy I would pass on to my own child. As she grew I reminded her to appreciate the love in her life by asking, “Did you put it in your pocket precious?” My daughter took to delightful giggles with this ritual, and it became integral part of her deep appreciation of every blessing in her life. As my daughter developed into a woman and became pregnant, I found myself hoping the tradition would again be passed on to another generation.

News of my grandbaby’s birth spread like wildfire in a sage field. My granddaughter Hattie was named in honor of my mother, so I thought it only fitting that I take momma there. So, I skedaddled to Jackson and gathered Momma. By the time of my granddaughter’s birth, age had truly begun to take its toll on my mother. She was no longer fit as a fiddle. She had become frail with time, and no longer had the round plumpness and agility of youth. Hunched over she shuffled her way to the maternity ward, with a smile, in spite of her arthritic pains. Watching my son-in-law present momma with her first great grandchild and name sake, was a moment that I put in my pocket. Seeing my grandchild, our new generation, be cuddled by her great grandmother was breath taking. Tears poured from my eyes as I heard Momma whisper to my new grandbaby “Do you feel the love Hattie, ‘cause you are loved. If you feel it baby, then I want you to remember it and put it in your pocket Hattie.”

When my mother passed away the grief was overwhelming, as it is with the loss of any parent. But, Momma was right; I had a pocket full of love from her. I was able to draw all my wonderful memories of love from my pocket and relive them in my memory. I know it was the only thing that got me through the loss of her. It was my saving grace. To this day when I feel loved, I close my eyes relish the moment, take my picture, and put it in my pocket. So I ask, what have you put it in your pocket lately?