Mother’s Day

She always wore an apron. Her laughter and smile forever present as she looked out her kitchen window for the arrival of company.  The kitchen table adorned with small wild flowers picked in the woods and arranged lovingly in a shot glass.  Blueberries and other berries when in season were baked into pies, cooling on the counter with that tantalizing aroma.  The kitchen table was covered in  a colorful table-cloth that beckoned  you to sit for pie and coffee.  A calendar on one wall had  pockets for each month which held  bills.  On the opposite wall a painting by her son, depicting a flower vase with beautiful flowers artfully arranged.  This was her sanctuary; her kitchen.  Tastefully simple with the outdoors intersecting with the indoors.   Her life was hard, but she found joy in the simple things in life; picking agates, finding four-leaf  clovers, saving old stamps and collecting coins to name a few.   I feel her presence at times, I can hear her laughter and sometimes she comes to me in dreams. We talk frequently, well I do the talking, It helps to bring her back into my world.   Happy Mother’s Day Mom, with love.

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