And now you made me cry. On Mother’s Day. I sure remember my dear mom who always rustled up something for supper, even when she was dead tired from physical work at a nursing home or a factory and wife-ing and raising five kids. Sometimes it was bacon and pancakes because that was easy. We coulda, shoulda helped more. Today, I’m on my way to see my sweet daughter, who’ll treat me to a museum and dinner. I hope she remembers me as lovingly someday as you’ve remembered your dear Rosalie.
That yellow rose is unbelievably beautiful..... the definition of the petals..... the subtle shine.... the teeny details you don't notice until you look closely.... so beautiful!
Thank you for a beautiful post, and yes, I cried thinking of what my mother had suffered in her life and how she found the courage to raise us. I’ll carry that in my heart this day in loving gratitude. 🧡
I was privileged to come to know an unsung and largely unknown feminist historian, Carolyn Meyers. Some years ago, she and her writing partner Terry Joan Baum produced a Mother's Day historical one act in San Francisco on the actual start of Mothers Day in USA. As her writers meeting cohort, I had been privy to her research and writings about it that led to the production and performance by the Crackpot Crones, their small theater company.
It was originally named Mothers Day of Peace, and the historical recounts of that first year of celebration are unforgettable, and changed my thinking about this day forever. I recommend you look it up, and consider the implications it was meant to have.
And to Carolyn, and to all women whose intellect, character, and genius will never be adaquately chronicled, Happy Mothers Day of Peace.
So. What I am hearing between lines is that Hallmark and other like minded corporations highjacked a well intentioned idea about Mother’s Day. Thx for the heads up
So many similarities Monica. I often shared my birthday with my mom when it fell on a Sunday, just as it does today. I am so my mother’s daughter. Thanks for this.
And now you made me cry. On Mother’s Day. I sure remember my dear mom who always rustled up something for supper, even when she was dead tired from physical work at a nursing home or a factory and wife-ing and raising five kids. Sometimes it was bacon and pancakes because that was easy. We coulda, shoulda helped more. Today, I’m on my way to see my sweet daughter, who’ll treat me to a museum and dinner. I hope she remembers me as lovingly someday as you’ve remembered your dear Rosalie.
Thank you for this beautiful tribute. I think all of us who have lost our Moms cried a bit.
That yellow rose is unbelievably beautiful..... the definition of the petals..... the subtle shine.... the teeny details you don't notice until you look closely.... so beautiful!
Thank you for a beautiful post, and yes, I cried thinking of what my mother had suffered in her life and how she found the courage to raise us. I’ll carry that in my heart this day in loving gratitude. 🧡
Thank you for another memorable read.
I was privileged to come to know an unsung and largely unknown feminist historian, Carolyn Meyers. Some years ago, she and her writing partner Terry Joan Baum produced a Mother's Day historical one act in San Francisco on the actual start of Mothers Day in USA. As her writers meeting cohort, I had been privy to her research and writings about it that led to the production and performance by the Crackpot Crones, their small theater company.
It was originally named Mothers Day of Peace, and the historical recounts of that first year of celebration are unforgettable, and changed my thinking about this day forever. I recommend you look it up, and consider the implications it was meant to have.
And to Carolyn, and to all women whose intellect, character, and genius will never be adaquately chronicled, Happy Mothers Day of Peace.
So. What I am hearing between lines is that Hallmark and other like minded corporations highjacked a well intentioned idea about Mother’s Day. Thx for the heads up
So many similarities Monica. I often shared my birthday with my mom when it fell on a Sunday, just as it does today. I am so my mother’s daughter. Thanks for this.
Wow. So sorry for your loss—your mom was young! Beautifully written, moving piece.
I love this! Such a fleeting memory that connects everything about your Mom!
Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!