Wonderful piece, especially the penmanship, ha. My mom did all these weird little things too, like never running out of the "pink stuff". She had no sisters though, didn't know how to act like a sister to my sisters… hung out with beer drinking men mostly.. but her girlfriends loved her, because she made them dare… take risks… make jokes about the men folk, ha.. She played the game, and talked about it. "You know, I never failed to service your father.." she told Joanne and me. We both fell off our bar stools, ha. Our moms were women we could look up to, brag about, enjoy, be friends with, and I hope we learned our lessons well enough. Those were calloused feet in those shoes we need to fill… ah. Nice job, Monica… your poor grandparents, ha.
At times I thought this was real, a letter written by a young girl.
A lovely tribute, warts and all and genuine, not as saccharine and sentimental as so many tributes. Your mum and you come across as real people, alive, big-hearted, fun.
Thanks for this post, Monica. Real mothers are so much better than the sanitized version of them. I enjoyed all of this piece. This Mothers Day I thought about the grief my mother carried for the deaths of three infants prior to my birth. She, like your mom, was strong.
Thank you, Lowell. Interesting how you picked up on my mother's strength, and yes, underneath there was sadness, too. Appreciate your thoughtful comments.
Wow. This is a beautiful salute to your mother and really neat reflections. The pepto and the buttons, the fact that mothers could be like girlfriends. Thank you!
Today mothers are like girlfriends, but not so in my generation, or so I thought, until I observed Debbie Bonkowski! Interesting to note that my mother was quite a bit older than most of my girlhood friends' moms. Different perspective.
I'm finding I want to mess around with art materials more than ever these days. Hopefully to find the right mix with writing. Thanks, Kelly. I'm so happy to be a part of this writer's group…I learn something new everyday.
Everything about this 'ode' is wonderful . . . from the spirit of it to the handwritten touch to those colorful edits. I love buttons, too, btw. And, yes, I did have a wonderful Mother's Day, what with the surprise and inspiration it gave rise to.
It will have been two years this July since my own mother's death. I'm not still grieving, precisely, but there are certain occasions I don't tolerate well – like Mother's Day. This year, I was smart enough to set aside all of the Mother's Day posts to come back to. I'm glad I did. I can appreciate them the more, and this truly is the most creative of the lot. Your personality and your mother's both are on display – so much insight in so few words!
Truly, an inspiring and lovely post. There's a lot to learn here about creativity, as well as appropriate remembrance.
Very sweet and creative M … you look like one of your aunts. Z
Growing up, my aunts were a ball!
Wonderful piece, especially the penmanship, ha. My mom did all these weird little things too, like never running out of the "pink stuff". She had no sisters though, didn't know how to act like a sister to my sisters… hung out with beer drinking men mostly.. but her girlfriends loved her, because she made them dare… take risks… make jokes about the men folk, ha.. She played the game, and talked about it. "You know, I never failed to service your father.." she told Joanne and me. We both fell off our bar stools, ha. Our moms were women we could look up to, brag about, enjoy, be friends with, and I hope we learned our lessons well enough. Those were calloused feet in those shoes we need to fill… ah. Nice job, Monica… your poor grandparents, ha.
P.S. button collectors were sew and sews..
Childhood never leaves us. Thanks for your contemplative response, Mike.
At times I thought this was real, a letter written by a young girl.
A lovely tribute, warts and all and genuine, not as saccharine and sentimental as so many tributes.
Your mum and you come across as real people, alive, big-hearted, fun.
Beautifully imagined, Monica.
Thanks for this post, Monica. Real mothers are so much better than the sanitized version of them. I enjoyed all of this piece. This Mothers Day I thought about the grief my mother carried for the deaths of three infants prior to my birth. She, like your mom, was strong.
Thank you, Lowell. Interesting how you picked up on my mother's strength, and yes, underneath there was sadness, too. Appreciate your thoughtful comments.
Oh, how we would talk if she were alive today. I have so many questions, now that I'm older. But I'll settle on memories. Thank you, Friko.
Wow. This is a beautiful salute to your mother and really neat reflections. The pepto and the buttons, the fact that mothers could be like girlfriends. Thank you!
This is a great write – Really, really creative!
Today mothers are like girlfriends, but not so in my generation, or so I thought, until I observed Debbie Bonkowski! Interesting to note that my mother was quite a bit older than most of my girlhood friends' moms. Different perspective.
I'm finding I want to mess around with art materials more than ever these days. Hopefully to find the right mix with writing. Thanks, Kelly. I'm so happy to be a part of this writer's group…I learn something new everyday.
Everything about this 'ode' is wonderful . . . from the spirit of it to the handwritten touch to those colorful edits. I love buttons, too, btw. And, yes, I did have a wonderful Mother's Day, what with the surprise and inspiration it gave rise to.
It will have been two years this July since my own mother's death. I'm not still grieving, precisely, but there are certain occasions I don't tolerate well – like Mother's Day. This year, I was smart enough to set aside all of the Mother's Day posts to come back to. I'm glad I did. I can appreciate them the more, and this truly is the most creative of the lot. Your personality and your mother's both are on display – so much insight in so few words!
Truly, an inspiring and lovely post. There's a lot to learn here about creativity, as well as appropriate remembrance.