I am my Mother’s daughter

I was speaking to my daughter Angie today and it happened.

My Mother popped right out of my mouth.

OMG…I thought. Trying hard not to giggle.

Mama is in heaven now but I felt her presence so strong I almost

turned around to look for her. Mama was the strongest person I know.

She was a survivor. A survivor of hard times, poverty and bad marriages.

“Made up entirely of  flaws but stitched together with good intentions.” Augusten Burroughs.”

That was Mama.

Mama could be distant though. Like an enticing fruit on a limb just out of

reach.

She could draw you in with her rich laughter or a well spun story but she

never let you get too close.

I am sure it was a product of her raising. My Grandmother was this way.

Instead of hugs Mama would spend long hours in her garden. I felt like she

took more pride in her garden than she did her kids sometimes. I was

determined that I was going to be a different type of  Mother.

A nurturing Mother that gave hugs and

kisses for no reason. That helped with homework and gave a listening ear.

I was not going to be like her.

But I am like her.

I love to read. I love music. I love to write, art, nature and photography.

I correct bad grammar. I love makeup

and perfume. I love a good meal and I laugh loud. I like to tell stories to

anyone who will listen. I like pretty things

and when I least expect it I say something that Mama once said to me.

Mama didn’t have much materially in her life but she bequeathed to her

children somethings of greater value than money. Mama left us her “pearls

of wisdom.”

Thanks for these gifts, Mama.

I will try to pay them forward.