[su_heading size=”18″]Letting My Mother Know I Love Her[/su_heading]
What have I been doing during this “slow” time? Well, no time like the present to take on the challenge of redesigning my website. Being that I just paid my final bill for my last design, I decided to do this one on my own, while attending a Social Media Online Conference. Thumper says I’m like a Stewardess who works all day, comes home to kiss her kids goodnight and goes back to work again.
Honestly? I am a little fed up myself. It’s not easy being ahead of the curve and with one more month until ♫school’s out for summer♫ I’m wondering if I can keep up with this pace, but I can’t give up now for I have someone who will be most disappointed in me for not persevering, and that would be me mum.
It is my mother who I hold completely responsible for how far I have come with my writing, always urging me to write, praising me when I hit a high note and sending me encouraging messages. It is also my mother who instilled the love of writing and the appreciation for life’s beauty into my mind at an early age. Growing up, I often received prosaic cards from her, her words as beautiful as the enchanting 19th Century illustrations gracing the fronts of the cards.
I grew up with the paintings of these artists hanging on the walls of our house in Massachusetts. Every day as I raced down the stairs I slowed down to enter the fantastic worlds created by Rackham, Doyle and Dulac. There was something in these paintings that brought fantasy to my mother’s lonely childhood in England where illustrated books were her only companion.
I live for her poetic descriptions of the changing light on a gray day, the snow diamonds sparkling in the snow and the soft whisper of the trees. Being far more prolific than I, she does not give credit when credit is not due, especially when I am too mainstream or use “common” expressions like “I’m pissed” or “That sucks.” She inspires me to reach that higher ground and to not write content merely for the sake of bringing in more readers.
My mother. I am nothing without her. I cannot watch a film or read a book without calling her first to see what reviews she has read. I cannot publish a post without needing her feedback and whenever something positive happens, it is she who I immediately call for I know she is the only person in my life who will match my enthusiasm.
As Mother’s Day comes a chuggin’ round the corner, memories of my mother and her sing song voice come tumbling forth. One cannot live in the world of enchantment and still keep their feet completely on the ground and perhaps this explained her ability to let us be who we were, children, climbing trees, playing in the clay by the creek and building forts in the forest until the dinner bell rang. She was a very tolerant women allowing us to march throughout the house clashing pans together as we repeatedly belted out songs from the musicals Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat and Jesus Christ Superstar.
She was and still is a mother unlike all others and I feel very fortunate that she is mine. I only hope that I can be as wonderful to my children and bring to them the magic that will live forever inside me.