Each month, write a new collection.
Dear Mom,I hope you know how muchI appreciated your exampleand your thoughtfulness whenI was growing up and thoughtdad hung the moon and youmight have pasted up a star or two. You knew how to say no. Many times I’ve said no witha silent prayer of thanks to you.Everyone at your retirement homeknew and loved you, and your concern for them was strong. You wrote a letter to me every week until you couldn’t see any longer.I wouldn’t admit how muchI counted on those letters foryears afterwards, but then Iwrote to you every week for thelast few years of your life. Jeanie and I knew when youfelt good because you stood upfor yourself then. When yousuffered quietly, refusing to takeany painkillers, you were easygoingand very unlike our images of mom.“She told the beauty shop ladyto rinse her hair again because itwas still soapy and she could hearthe bubbles popping, “ Jean reportedonce, and we chorused “Hooray!”I remember your story aboutfundraising for the League of WomenVoters among the rich men of Charlotte. They told you, “I’m no woman.Why should I give to your group?”You were ready with a short but pithydescription of the election flyers andpublic forums that they held for everyoneeach time there was an election. You got the money.“You never get what you don’t ask for,” she told me.I used that advice many times.I hope you have delicious food,pretty clothes and comfy shoes,kind friends, a good hairdresser,and feel sure of how muchJean and I love you and miss you, sweet Mama.love, Laurie