Yesterday

January 8th, 2007 is an anniversary for me. It's the ninth anniversary of my mother's death. How can it already have been so long? Pretty much any memories of her for my children come from pictures and stories, since our oldest was only 2 and our second born only 2 months old. Sometimes, even the memories for me are helped most by pictures and stories. When I wrote a few days ago about taking out the trash, I re-captured a nice cache of them.

I'm not really certain why memories of Mom come harder to me than memories of Dad. Possibly because of the stroke that so changed her last 2 years. What I am grateful for is that they get stronger and more numerous as time passes. She is indelibly imprinted on my life. I move a certain way, clear my throat just so, laugh or smile, and she is there. My particular bents and quirks with regard to "how things are done--the right way" (silverware placement, TP over the top, a place for everything and everything has its place, etc., etc.) owe their genesis to her.

Ann Elizabeth Solomon Willsea. I look forward to catching up with her over a nice tea, someday, and thanking her for all she poured into me, all she sacrificed for me, all that she loved me and loved me and loved me.