Life Lessons From My Mom

The desk is in my family room,

I pass it at least 100 times a day.

 

And the green plastic folder was in plain sight.
It was labeled “Beverly’s Writings” – thoughts my mother penned  through the years. 

 

 

But, somehow, I never thought to explore its contents
until one rainy, cold Saturday afternoon.
And I am very glad I did.
 
My mother always intensely hated being an only child. Perhaps this is why…

LITTLE JOE

It was a difficult birth on this cold, wintery night
Prayers were answered when all went right
At last, a dark haired, beautiful baby boy
They named him Joseph, this long-awaited bundle of joy
Oh, how complete their young lives seemed
Happier than they ever dreamed
His life span wasn’t long
Sic days later he was gone
Not a day goes by that I don’t mourn
For my brother, who died before I was born.

 

On meeting my dad….

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS

For us, it was love at first sight
That long, long ago, cool summer night
The second World War was raging on starts in the windows for the boys who were gone
Ration stamps, shortages at home, being sent to our servicemen overseas
Telegraph boys – don’t stop at my house, please!
After years of waiting for the war to cease
My Army Air Corp hero returned to a world at peace
It was a struggle adjusting to domestic life
We were so young to be man and wife
I was 17, he was 21, and I count my blessings every day
For the 68 years we shared before he passed away

 

When she was 20, my mom gave birth to me and over the years, our nuclear family grew with the birth of my brother and sister.

My mother used her writing skills to also pay tribute to those she loved. Tribute to Ethel is about the cleaning lady we shared for years, hailing from the hills of Kentucky, deep in Appalachia, with little education. She was innately brighter than both of us. 

 
Tribute to Ethel

I find myself waiting for Ethel to open the door
As she has done so many times before
Together, coffee in hand, two old friends of forty years
Her words of wisdom, like music to my ears
And the down-home cures that I now know
Will heal anything from head to toe
The delicious buckeye balls and heavenly fudge that Ethel made
The essence of those Christmas delights will not fade
Rest in place, my loving friend, 
And know that my memories of you will never end.

My mother spent many holidays by herself growing up because both her parents were florists who worked tremendously long hours. As an adult, she was very inclusive. Every Thanksgiving, she invited not just her family, but anyone else who she knew would be alone. Our Thanksgivings were large, wild, rambunctious affairs. 

Savor The Moment

Dishes stacked high, but it doesn’t matter
Remnants of food on every platter
Toys scattered here and there
Disarray everywhere
The laughter loud and spits high
How blessed we are, I think with a sigh
The family’s together, recalling the past
My, oh my, time passes so fast
After the clutter and toys are stored away
We will always remember this Thanksgiving Day.
My mom is no longer with us to enjoy the long Thanksgiving weekend, but in her memory, we party hearty.

Keep Preserving Your Bloom,

Iris Ruth Pastor