Today, I am grateful for my mom.
Cliche, maybe. But with my father being absent, and then my sister's father coming in and out of our lives from time to time, my mom was my rock. She was so much fun; she took us to parks, and roller skating. We did lots of crafting, like sewing, cooking, baking, coloring. My mom had issues in school with being "slow" as one her report cards said...but she's super smart. I'm pretty sure that if my mom were in school in modern times, she'd be diagnosed with dyslexia...she is forever mixing up letters and numbers. She graduated high school, but barely. Because of this, my mom insisted that my sister and I be exposed to books very young. We lived three blocks from a library and we went at least weekly. You know what I remember most about our library...the librarian was named Sarah Miller, just like me! We loved her so much, my sister and I would run in to hug her.
My sister and I were both voracious readers, and are to this day. One of our favorites was the Little House on the Prairie series. Fiction, books about the ocean (we lived on the ocean, so this was our world) animal books, biographies...we sucked it all in. One of my happiest days was when I was old enough for my first library card; I practiced signing my name so it would look nice on my card.
My mom kept a clean home, brought us to church, and loved us so much that she would skip meals in order to make sure we had enough food. I remember when I was about 8 or 9, she was dating a guy (I don't remember his name) and he bought her an expensive leather coat. My mom didn't have a good coat, and living in New York, it would have been appreciated. One day Mom came home crying because she had lost the coat on the subway. Her boyfriend was angry and yelled at her. I think they broke up just a few weeks later. I didn't find out until we had moved to Florida that my mom hadn't lost the coat. She took it to a consignment shop and sold it, then went to the thrift store to buy my sister and I a few bags of used clothing to get us through another winter.
That kind of love signifies to me how much my mother loves me. She is an amazing woman. And when Ken died last month, she was on vacation but still took time to listen to me cry on the phone. I am 36 years old, and I still need my mom. In fact, she is coming over in an hour and I need to get off this computer so I can do the dishes and get the kettle on. She's going to want her "cuppa tea" and it is my honor to make it for her. I love my mom!