Random Mother's Day Thoughts

I was maybe 8 or 9 years old and sitting at the head of the table in the kitchen on the family farm. My Mother was at the foot of the table, ironing clothes. It was ungodly hot, even with all the windows open. She had a huge laundry basket of dampened shirts (this was before there was a "steam" option on irons).

She was drinking a beer (one of the few times I'd ever seen her drink, other than the obligatory glass of wine at Thanksgiving or Christmas) and the heat had turned her hair into damp ringlets.

I can't remember a time when she looked so lovely to me...

I was living in my apartment over the garage and I went downstairs to eat dinner. I was shocked to see thousands, maybe millions, of fireflies over the fields. I ran into the house and told my Dad and Mom what I had seen. My Dad mumbled something about having seen fireflies before, but my Mother dropped what she was doing and went outside with me. We stood on the driveway, holding hands and watched the fireflies...

I watched my Mother stoically deal with the deaths of my Father, my brother George and my brother Peter. But my sister Anne's suicide devastated her.

As it did me...