“Summer Swigs” by Terri Dreismeier
I remember opening the avocado-colored refrigerator and seeing the silver caps of the stout Budweisers. My mother purchased three single bottles every June from the local A&P.
Her hair was long, wavy, and naturally strawberry blonde. Her cat-eye framed glasses perched on her nose. Every Friday she manicured the lawn, but rarely did she meticulously trim, shape, or paint her fingernails.
She was a stay-at-home mom, but my blue-collar father worked nights, so we all had yard chores during the summer. While she mowed, my sister and I grudgingly yanked weeds while soaking one another with the garden hose—rain dancing!
Her hair was beehive-high, and sweat poured down her face. She always wore a handmade faded blue sundress and colorful flip-flops that revealed toenails stained from the grass clippings and severely cracked heels.
Afterward, she said, “On the bottom left shelf,” and I was directed to grab a Bud.
My job as a ten-year-old.
The three of us sat on the front concrete stoop. Two cold swigs for her and one small sip for my fifteen-year-old sister. My mother then twisted the cap back on, and I returned the bottle to the refrigerator.
When I turned thirteen, I was invited to join the tradition. A single bottle of Budweiser each summer month was shared between a mother and her children. Week after week, year after year, my mother’s labor of love with the lawn’s precise diagonal lines must have given her a sense of happiness and fulfillment.
Her home now is a place where beyond glass sliding doors the world moves quickly, yet inside, time holds its breath. I visit her weekly. When I enter her room, she is peacefully sleeping or somberly staring at the television. Her mind and mobility are progressively and irreversibly being taken. We sit silently and hold hands. On days when she can, we reminisce about our summer swigs on Fridays.
Theresa Dreismeier (Terri) has a BS in Education from the University of Nebraska at Omaha (UNO) and an MA in Leadership from Bellevue University. She and her husband adopted a baby from Korea in July 2001. In April 2023, their son died from suicide. Terri returned to UNO and is enrolled in the Advanced Writing Certificate and pursuing an MA in English with an emphasis in creative nonfiction. She currently works as an authorized substitute teacher. In her free time, Terri enjoys reading, writing, hiking, exercising, and volunteering with her husband.