I am my mother's firstborn child. She has said so often that I sort of helped her to grow up, because suddenly she had this other little person who needed to be cared for and loved. Well, I don't know about all of that, but I do know that I couldn't imagine a happier childhood. I can't imagine her loving me any more or any better than she has for the past 36 years.
My momma is creative. I remember so many 4-H or school projects that she helped to make spectacular because of her wonderfully creative ideas. My mother is artistic ... she paints the neatest little watercolor pictures. She isn't crafty in that she doesn't spend a great deal of time making all sorts of crafty creations, but yet every Christmas she makes 2 or 3 or 4 new stockings for our family ... and each one is as unique as the person to whom it belongs. I've never known my mother to really follow recipes (or directions for that matter!), but her food is always so yummy. My brother always says that if you like what Momma cooks tonight, enjoy it because you'll never get it again! My mother is smart and intelligent. She's so well read and is always talking about the latest thing that she has learned or read. Her love for learning and reading have inspired me all of my life.
My mother is not a follower, though she isn't loud about doing things her own way. In fact, my mother is a quiet kind of person. If you don't watch her and pay attention, you might just miss all the wonderful things she is doing so quietly in the background. She is never in the limelight. She'll never be one to toot her own horn or even lead the group. But my mother is always working to make life more pleasant for the rest of us. My mother is full of wisdom. She may not say much, but when she talks it is worth taking note of what she says. My mother is kind and full of compassion and just about everything that I'd like to cultivate in my own life.
So, Momma ... I remember all that you did for me. I remember how every year we would spend a day baking Christmas cookies, and then we took them to people around town. I remember how you were there for every one of those livestock shows (freezing in the stands), and all the basketball games when I just sat on the bench and the dance recitals when you spent an hour or more getting me dressed for my brief 2 minutes on the stage. I remember that Mondays were always spaghetti nights (cause we kids loved it and Daddy didn't and he ate at Rotary on Monday nights). I recall how your berry cobblers tasted amazing on a cold Sunday afternoon in the winter, and how during that big ice storm you made BLT's ... everytime it gets really cold I still think about the wonderful smell and taste of those sandwiches. I remember how you let us sleep in your bed when we were sick and had to stay home from school. I remember how you read to us every night ... and even when I was in college you would still sometimes read my English selections to me. I always liked the way the sound of your voice made me feel.
I could go on and on ... all the little things that you did for me that made my childhood so perfect. I love you ... and I'm so glad that you are my mother. I can't imagine how I could have been any more blessed!
This is a photo of me with my mother on my very first Easter Sunday.
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