Yesterday my family all handled the remembrance of our mother in various ways. I made a meal using one of Mom's recipes. Another made some bread from the same cook book while listening to Mom’s favorite music. And then another spent the day with Dad, visiting the grave side, going for supper, reflecting some more. One trained for an upcoming race, in solitude, yet mentioned that he wished he could be here partaking with me in the food I had prepared, while the other spent the day with his children and the grandchildren, playing, enjoying life and experiencing the fruit of a great mother, a great grandmother. Each of us caught deep within our own thought and yet somehow throughout the day we remained intrinsically connected to one another, knowing and understanding each other’s feelings with few spoken words.
It was a peaceful, good day to remember Mom.
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mom. Show all posts
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Butter, Honey, and Crumbs
My mom is not doing so well these days. I was thinking about her today and some of my favorite memories.
We use to drive mom crazy before bed time. Us three boys would fight and carry on (just goofing around) and mom would get madder and madder because we were not going to bed. Sooner or later she would go to the cupboard and pull out the strap. A wide thick leather strap about a foot and a half long (or at least what my mind remembers it looked like).
We would all squeal and get scared and start running up the stairs and she would be chasing us, following us up the stairs too. Before she made it to the top she would start laughing and so would we. We never did get the strap (at least what I can remember) and we always went to bed once the little charade was over.
Mom was a great cook and many times we would come home and there would be fresh bread on the counter. Still warm. Mom is “fresh baked bread” for me. The aroma is so awesome. One day I came home alone from school to fresh bread. 6 loafs . . . They were still warm. . . No one was around. . . I love crusts. . . Mom’s crusts. Well, I proceeded to cut off all the crusts on all the loaves. Crusts, butter, honey and me. It was great.
I cleaned up all the evidence (butter, honey, and crumbs) and just walked away like I was never there. All was okay until later that night.
D’oh!
jp
0 for 6
We use to drive mom crazy before bed time. Us three boys would fight and carry on (just goofing around) and mom would get madder and madder because we were not going to bed. Sooner or later she would go to the cupboard and pull out the strap. A wide thick leather strap about a foot and a half long (or at least what my mind remembers it looked like).
We would all squeal and get scared and start running up the stairs and she would be chasing us, following us up the stairs too. Before she made it to the top she would start laughing and so would we. We never did get the strap (at least what I can remember) and we always went to bed once the little charade was over.
Mom was a great cook and many times we would come home and there would be fresh bread on the counter. Still warm. Mom is “fresh baked bread” for me. The aroma is so awesome. One day I came home alone from school to fresh bread. 6 loafs . . . They were still warm. . . No one was around. . . I love crusts. . . Mom’s crusts. Well, I proceeded to cut off all the crusts on all the loaves. Crusts, butter, honey and me. It was great.
I cleaned up all the evidence (butter, honey, and crumbs) and just walked away like I was never there. All was okay until later that night.
D’oh!
jp
0 for 6
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