The Way They Were

We were flipping through the local newspaper yesterday, and the tributes to dead moms caught our attention.

We had held our mother's hand last December as she floated away. Her last message on the machine we still listen to from time to time. "It's Mom. I'm fine, so don't worry. Talk to you soon. Love you." She spoke our name like no one else.

In the newspaper, there were the usual sentiments, heartfelt certainly, though wrapped in lame verse, end-rhymed and sentimental.

We studied the pictures. All these long-lived women, shown near the ends of their lives. More fitting, it seems to us, would be a picture from their prime.

Take, for example, this picture of our own mother at 18. We didn't know her then, of course, country girl, high school valedictorian, winner of the English medal. But it's a good way to remember her, nevertheless.

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved