I haven't taken the time to honor my mother lately, so I thought I would stop thinking about myself for a few minutes and think about her. A few years ago, my mother came to live in Massachusetts to help me take care of my daughter and to help me take care of me. My husband didn't mind a little care-taking either. We lived in a beautiful house between a pond and the woods, with a majestic waterfall just steps outside our door. My mother would come over for coffee, play time, movies, great food (which she usually brought), and a lot of laughter. She is a wonderful woman, my mother. And she's stuck in Massachusetts for the time being because jobs in St. Louis--or anywhere--aren't that easy to come by for a sixty-plus woman with a beautiful, talented heart. I know...why not? We ask ourselves this question a lot these days, even though we all know it could be a lot worse. But here's the thing: when we were in Massachusetts together, my mom and I became friends. Real friends. And now I miss her two ways instead of just the one.
I love that photograph of us because we look so happy. We were so happy.
I feel like making a bumper sticker that says, "I love my mom!"