LEO THE LION
"...he reminded me of Ginger’s strength and kindness as a mother."
When my first child was born, I didn't know I needed help. But Ginger, my mother-in-law, knew. I was a high-school English teacher and went back to work when my daughter was four months old. My husband’s job required regular travel, so Ginger quit her job as a legal assistant in Chicago so she could come and stay with us in Green Bay while he was away.
She was as gentle with me as she was with my baby. During the day, she’d take her for walks and tidy up the house. She always brought Cooking Light magazines and would adapt the vegetarian recipes for me, the only vegan in the family. She cooked as if she’d been vegan all her life. At night after I’d nursed my daughter to sleep, we'd eat those delicious meals, sitting on the couch with our feet tucked under us, watching Grey’s Anatomy and laughing at all the scandals. I remember thinking, I can’t believe my mother-in-law and I are watching Meredith and McDreamy have sex.
When summer came, I was home. Ginger volunteered to come and stay, asking if I’d like the company. I told her no, wanting the freedom to be with friends and my daughter on my schedule. Or maybe wanting to prove to myself I could parent on my own. Either way, if she was disappointed, she never let on, and when the school year resumed and my husband went away for work, we fell back into our rhythm. I was so happy to have her back. I’d missed her.
After my son was born I quit my job, but Ginger still came to stay, and we cared for the children together. We continued to end our nights with trashy TV or simply talking. She told me how, after 30 years, she still picked up her husband’s laundry from the floor, because marriage isn’t an even score sheet. She taught me how to make my husband’s favorite dish, corned beef, using her recipe, and encouraged me to make it just because he loved it, instead of waiting for a special occasion. I would have listened to her sharing wisdom all night if not for my babies taking back my attention.
When our son turned one, my husband’s job moved our young family west to Colorado. It was unexpected and abrupt. Very shortly afterwards, Ginger was diagnosed with lung cancer, and she died not two years later. But I think our move had already broken her heart.
This little rattle is something my daughter loved when she was an infant. We called him Leo the Lion. Ginger would sit in our blue recliner with my daughter on a pink fleece blanket on her lap, one hand cupped around her head, and tap Leo on her nose: “Boop!”
Leo survived multiple cribs, playrooms and cross-country moves before I tucked him away in a keepsake box. I probably kept him out so long because he reminded me of Ginger’s strength and kindness as a mother. She gave me confidence and showed me how to accept help. She taught me to love and care for myself so I could do the same for my family. I wish I’d had many more years with her. And that, when she offered to stay with me that summer, I’d said, “Yes, please come.”
—Martha Bonnie
Originally from Green Bay, Martha Bonnie lives in Arizona and writes poetry and narrative nonfiction; her subjects include her experiences since sustaining a traumatic brain injury and finding beauty in the natural world. She’s grateful for her continued ability to write, a passion since childhood.
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Ginger sounds wonderful! Thank you for bringing her to all of us.
What a beautiful tribute to a beautiful mother in law!