In celebration of Mother’s Day, a few memories of me and my mom from my childhood:
You teaching me how to make scrambled eggs. And then not laughing when I didn’t realize I was supposed to stir them (you know – to scramble them) while they cooked. And thanks for not being too mad when you had to scrape the burnt egg pancake out of the pan afterwards.
You taking to me to the library almost every week, so I could checkout as many books as I could carry. You making me read Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell even though I wasn’t interested. I know the difference between a classic and a throwaway book because of it. And the importance of indelible characters and unforgettable lines.
You taking me to the pool for swimming lessons. I coming to your swimming lessons too. You taking me to piano lessons. Dance lessons. Marching band. Jazz band. School and community plays. Concerts. Speech competitions.
You taking me to my first play, Annie. I’ve loved theatre and musicals ever since. Laughing with you when Tevye wiggled his butt and sang, “I wish I was a rich man” in Fiddler on the Roof.
Thanks for being a great mom, always supportive and cheering me on. Thanks for putting up with the teenage years. I should probably issue a blanket apology to cover those years. Thanks for millions of good memories, and I look forward to more good times.