To Momma.

Today is my mom’s birthday.  If she were alive she would be ninety-two years old.  She died three years ago just days shy of her eighty-ninth.  Mom loved pretty things, most of all flowering baskets to hang on her front porch.  One of the last gifts I bought for her while she was still living in her house was baskets for Mother’s Day.  She would love this one.

In Mom’s honor I went around the house and yard this afternoon looking for things I knew she would like.  It was a good exercise for me as it helped me to recall many of the sweet memories I have of her.

I think she would enjoy this colorful bookmark.  She loved to read, and her favorite color was blue.  I prefer to remember her when her vision was still good enough for reading and jigsaw puzzles.

The photo on the right is a beautiful wind chime my daughter gave me.  When I moved to this house four years ago it became a tangle of colors and glass and keys.  I guess I didn’t do a very good job of packing.  It’s waiting patiently for someone to untangle it and free its lovely song.  If Mom were here she would sit on the deck and carefully straighten every strand, restoring it to its intended artistic state.

I have a profusion of chives growing in my unkempt, weedy little garden.  She loved growing things so I know she would enjoy the flowering chives.  I don’t think she would be too pleased with the weeds but she wouldn’t scold.  She stopped that years ago.  I can imagine her saying, “Well, it’s just to hot to do much weeding down here, isn’t it, Honey.”  She and I are, after all, mountain women.  We don’t do very well in hot weather.

There’s a new little tree asserting itself in the back yard.  We’ve had “extra” rain this summer.  I’m sure it has achieved additional growth because of the rain forest conditions.  I’m rather proud of it.  I know Mom would be, too.

If I could, I would give this sweet jeweled box to Mom.  I think she would put her favorite earrings in it.  And maybe a ring or two.  When she was a young mother she couldn’t afford nice jewelry.  Hopefully we (her children and grandchildren) made up for that when we started to earn salaries of our own.

I especially like this afghan.  I made it with scraps of leftover yarn.  I think Mom would appreciate my attempt to be frugal by using what I had on hand.  I would like to give this to her, to keep her warm.  Of course, she would let her dog Odie sleep on it, too, but I’m finally mature enough to give with no strings attached.  Did I say strings?  Aren’t afghans made of strings?

This sentimental journey has made me cry a bit.  Okay, a lot.  I would like to leave you with a chuckle.  My caption for the photograph below is “Even my cat is voting for Obama!”  So would Momma if she were here.


16 thoughts on “To Momma.

  1. This is so beautiful. Blue is my favorite color too. I love how you photographed all those things just for her. So touching. She sounds like she was truly wonderful. Memories, they can never be taken away from us.


    • Thank you, Susannah. As I mentioned to someone above, she wasn’t always easy and we had our issues as most mothers and daughters do, but she had a kind nature and a big heart. That’s what I will continue to remember. The negative stuff tends to pale by comparison.


    • Hi Esmee (sorry, I can’t do the accent). Welcome to my blog. And thanks for your comment.

      I took a very quick visit over to your blog. I look forward to revisiting tomorrow and doing some reading. I can see that you have a sense of humor. I like that.


  2. I am grateful you shared these moments with us, and also for this idea. I’m coming up on the birthday I share(d) with my mom, and I might just try this. Of course . . . I could just look at Li’l D all day, and that would be most in line with my mom, were she still here. Much love, Pat. ♥


    • Thank you, Deborah. We never stop missing them but I’m able to concentrate mostly on the good stuff now. Mom wasn’t always easy to deal with but she had a big, inclusive heart. That’s what’s important. I’m sorry we (you and I) have a reason to write these posts, but I’m looking forward to what you write about your dear mother. Your writing inspires me. Lots of hugs.


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