I’m thinking of her today. Her gentle voice and proud image linger about me.
The relationship between a mother and her daughter can follow many paths. A childhood friend was incredibly close to her mom. The two of them talked, laughed and shared silly secrets. Yet another good friend and her mother were like strangers; they barely spoke. At various times I have envied both. Why?
She was generous in her legacies. I cannot fault her for that.
From her I learned the value of family. She was an at-home wife and mother with a large family. At a time when bottle-feeding was rampant in America, she breastfed her babies. 
When store-bought Wonder Bread became the national favorite, she kneaded and baked wholesome homemade bread and cinnamon buns filling our home with an awesome aroma. Our childhood meals always saw us seated together around the table. As a young mother through the 1950s and 1960s, she regularly used her Kodak, snapping pictures of all those she loved and recording our history for posterity. Throughout her life, she treasured family and family gatherings.
She also loved to read. Another cherished legacy, one that led to my writing. From my earliest days, I saw scores of books on the shelves of our living room – REBECCA, WUTHERING HEIGHTS, JANE EYRE, and a magnificent edition of the complete works of William Shakespeare. In junior high, I brought home Victoria Holt’s MISTRESS OF MELLYN from the school library; that started our shared immersion into gothic romance and then romantic suspense. How she loved those books – a rambling cliff side mansion, a dark, brooding hero, a heroine in danger. Sometimes, I think she saw herself in the role.
From her I learned dignity, self-esteem and stubbornness. She took great pride in her appearance. Each morning, and whenever she left the house, she would preen in front the mirror, freshening her make-up and hair. For nearly four decades she sold Avon cosmetics. It brought in some cash, but it also brought luxury into her life. In her last years, after we all convinced her she was too ill to continue with it, she secretly signed up again and struggled to sell for another year.
Still, there were aspects of her character that I rejected. Parts of her were a puzzle I could not solve, a riddle I never understood. Sometimes, I think I will spend my remaining years trying to understand her, and our relationship. Penance.
It’s now been 3½ years since she left us. Today, she would have been 83.
Happy birthday, Mom. I love you. ∞
Stringing Beads 
Deb,
Because we’ve shared experiences with our mothers, I understand the emotions assaulting you while you wrote this. It was beautiful, memorable, honest–a study of a woman who shaped her own life while she shaped others.
What you feel isn’t penance–it’s growth as you move into the who you really are and come to terms with all your relationships. I think all writers are very good at this and must do it to learn to delve into the secrets of their fictional characters.
Have a good week, dear lady.
Thank you for your heartwarming words. You are indeed a wise woman. 🙂
Hope you feel better soon.
Great post. Thanks.
CC
Reblogged this on Stringing Beads and commented:
I’m re-posting this as a tribute to my mother. She’s been gone over five years now. To Mom, to my dear Aunt Fran, and to all the Moms who bless my life – HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, with love.
HI Deb,
Thanks for posting. Relationships are not one dimensional – least of all the mother/daughter relationship. It is so multi-layered. A plethora of emotions twist, turn, wend, and weave throughout that oftentimes shaky relationship. Many emotions are easy to understand. Some are not. We might spend a lifetime trying to figure them out. I think you showed that in your piece this morning. Keep the happy memories alive.
All best,
Donna O’Donnell Figurski
donnaodonnellfigurski.wordpress.com
Thank you for your heartfelt thoughts, Donna. I love your line “A plethora of emotions twist, turn, wend, and weave….”. Maddening, yet so true. And through it all loving memories remain. Thank you for visiting. Have a blessed day!
Deb,
What a beautiful tribute to your mother. My mother was a working outside the home mother and my grandmother kept me. Between the two of them I had the best of all worlds, but I didn’t understand either of them. However, they taught me values that I hope I’ve passed along to my daughter.
Always glad to see your name pop up here, Deb. Thanks for reposting this tribute to your mom. My Thoughts on Thursday http://www.marsharwest.com/category/blog
post was about my mom. For good or ill, we are our mother’s daughters. If we’ve been fortunate in our mom’s, it’s mostly good. 🙂