Saturday, May 13, 2017

Mother’s Laughter

        My mother’s laughter was infectious – like a cheerful tune that lingers in your mind for the rest of the day. Like a yawn that starts a chain reaction causing everyone else in the room to yawn.
She laughed often. It didn’t take much to amuse her: the antics of a young child, a puppy or kitten tickled her funnybone causing her to laugh joyfully and everyone within hearing distance felt an urge to laugh with her.
They say we all have a talent. Although she had others, the ability to make people laugh was one of the most significant.
She was a good singer, too. It ran in her family. Her sister and three brothers all sang beautifully. Nothing pleased me more as a child than to be there when she and her siblings got together for a songfest or to hear her singing while she did her housework. Unfortunately, I didn’t inherit her vocal chords. I was pretty sure of that fact from the get-go, but it was confirmed when I was once singing with the radio while doing my housework and my dog started barking at me. I loved to sing but the only place I dared was when I was alone in my car with all the windows up. I’d put my favorite CD on the player, turn the volumn up and sing to my heart’s content. Sometimes I’d take the long way home just so I could sing longer.  J
I loved my mother but we couldn’t have been more different. I used to wonder if she might possibly have taken the wrong baby home from the hospital until I learned that I was born at home.
Clobbered that theory!
I never liked the clothes she picked out for me either. How angry I used to get when she made me wear things I hated just because they suited her!
For example, she always made me wear a beret on Easter and other dress-up occasions. She was so skillful at matching the color of a beret to my dress or coat perfectly every time! And the way she pulled the tight bands of those things down on my forehead almost to my eyebrows made me feel like my head was in a straight jacket. In retrospect, I think I must have looked like a woman who arches her eyebrows too high, causing her to look surprised. I was convinced if I sneezed or coughed hard, the beret would go flying across the room and smack someone in the face. As soon as we were in the car heading home, I’d yank it off as fast as possible, leaving an itchy, red mark on my forehead for the rest of the day. When I was old enough to wear what I pleased, I never looked at another beret!  :)

Yes, we were different, and that made for some interesting times. As I grew up and struggled to be my own person, we had many heated arguments, but she usually won. My respect for her wouldn’t allow me to go very long without apologizing. To be completely honest, I feared her, too!

God doesn’t make mistakes! He gave me a strong will, and then blessed me with a mother who would temper it. Just as He uses adversity to refine us and make us stronger, my mother combined just the right mix of nurturing and discipline to shape my character.

She was everything a mother should be: loving, intelligent, beautiful – inside and out, God-fearing and more.
I miss her every day of my life. 

(the above picture is not me)


Dennis J said...

This story is wonderful, Peg. The way you describe wearing a beret is priceless! I love the way you write. Keep it up. said...

Love it! Great writing!

Janet said...

Beautiful tribute to your mother Peggy.

Linda said...

So nice! What a beautiful way you have with words, my friend. Wish I could do what you do. Don't stop. You make a lot of people happy. Great post!

Alicia Karns said...

This post has everything. Comedy, beauty, and sincerity. You are a wonderful writer, Peggy! I'm sure your mother was proud of you.