Across the Years

My mother was a remarkable woman who didn't profess big dreams beyond day-to-day happiness and a good life for her family. When my folks were married in the late '40s, the world was an unusual place. The Second World War was over, Dad was out of the Navy, and America still held a Rockwellian charm as it slide toward the Korean War, the idyllic '50s, and the rise of Elvis.

Because Mom and Dad grew up during the Depression, some of the hard-learned lessons of that generation seeped into the atmosphere of our home and family.

Mom was an artist. That is where I got it. She could draw and paint (yes, they are different), and I was in awe of her talent.

For a time during my youth, Mom worked at a local department store, and she decorated and arranged the long display windows with meticulous dedication and impressive results.

At the grocery store (or on other local outings), we were often approached by townsfolk that told Mom how they loved her current windows, or thought this or that particular touch was clever or well executed. She came home with a smile after such encounters. (If she were with us now, oh how she’d love to talk with her granddaughter about fashion and accessories!)

I miss Mom.

I can still hear her distinctive laughter across the years, and I’ll always cherish the fond memories of her  for all my days remaining.

Happy Birthday, Mom.