This is my seventh Mother’s Day without her.
And I miss her more each year, as my children grow and have kids of their own. Whereas once I needed mothering help, now I need advice on grandmothering.
Today K asked me to talk about her, as we drove along winding roads in the Santa Monica Mountains. I said she was petite and gentle, loving and cuddly. That she once had red hair. That she taught me to sew and spin and embroider and garden. He wanted more stories, but I don’t think the few anecdotes I shared gave him a good picture of my sweet mother.
All I know is, she is a huge part of who I am.
Miss you, mama. So, so much.