I have a passing interest in mothers. It's hard for me to have more than that. I tend to get overwhelmed with feelings and my head just scatters into nothingness.
And I feel bad. I feel I've given my mother the short shrift. All my life.
Mostly I feel bad for my two nieces. They have one grandmother. The other died before they were born. Ruth, my mother, their grandmother, would have been a lovely balance to the funny, cynical grandmother on their mother's side.
Their grandmother on their father's side would have been a different experience. I know we tend to forget the faults of people who died and paint them in rosy colors. But really, with Ruthie? You couldn't paint her rosy enough.
She was the sweetest woman I've ever known. I've met one person (one!) who rivals her in good intentions--and she travelled a very different path. I more recently came to know a mother/daughter team that reminds me of how me and mommy were. Mommy was in charge, no question. But her love and admiration and enjoyment of my company were genuine.
My mother loved me. She loved having me around. She loved talking to me. Playing with me. Taking me swimming. Sewing us matching dresses. Taking me to Brownies and then Girl Scouts. She decorated the house for Christmas. She received the Gertrude Hawks Chocolate orders and we (my brother and I) helped put together the orders, the room redolent with chocolate and fresh cut pine tree.
I want to write down some memories, for my nieces. I can't say them...it still hurts too much and I'll end up sobbing and that's just stupid. but maybe I can write what I've wanted to tell you all these years.
My Christmas present to both of you
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