|Yes, this is me with my mother.|
Even still on the days when I'm sick with a cold, I think how nice it was when I was little, to have my mother make me chicken soup. Just her presence in the room always made me feel better. I've remembered this just recently when my son had an earache (something I used to get frequently as a child). He whimpered in pain, but the moment I sat next to him, holding him, his whimpers ceased and he grew calm. And I remembered how my mother's mere presence always soothed me.
I also inherited the love of reading and writing from my mother. If it wasn't for her teaching me her love of books, I doubt I would have chosen a career as an author today. She was an avid romance reader and most of my childhood I remember her always with a book in her hand. I also learned after she died that she was a writer, too. After going through her stuff, I found a box of notebooks. She had written several short stories and had contacted some businesses about writing book reviews. Though she didn't have the chance to get published, I believe she would have succeeded. I could see the talent shining through even in her rough drafts.
My father was kind enough to keep her library of books and when I moved out of my house, he gave them to me. She read hundreds, maybe thousands! I'm sad to say now that I didn't keep all of them. At that point in my life, I couldn't imagine ever reading all of them! But a few of her favorites were Danielle Steel, Rosemary Rogers, Stephen King, and Dean Koontz.
Although she has been gone for so very long, there are still many who remember her. She was a wife, mother, daughter, friend, and teacher. She was kind and patient and loving. She has touched the lives of so many of us. And now my children take a part of her into the future so she will never be forgotten. And, though I still miss her so very much, I know she is always with me.
Happy Birthday, Mom! I love you!
January 11, 1958 - August 23, 1989