Her hair was like blonde wheat from the fields in Kansas… Now her hair is almost white, reflecting the wisdom of her years.
Her eyes were blue gems, jewels, and brighter than any blue I painted on construction paper… They’re still very blue, just with a gleam of “diamonds” now from the eye surgeries she has had.
Her favorite shade of nail color when she wasn’t working on the farm, in the garden, or in the middle of canning season was a glaze of white enamel… Now she rarely has the energy or makes the time to paint with (still) her favorite color of enamel.
She was the most beautiful woman, like Cinderella in my childhood-mind; pink-milk-white skin… At 80, she still radiates a defiant young calendar age. She still appears to be 20 years younger than herself (at least).
She had the neatest ways of doing things, her practicality, that no one else had a way of doing–in her person, in her house, with her sewing and just about everything that she touched. She was a resourceful individual that depicted her intelligence. She still goes, at 80, working through her days and nights; more difficult for her to fight sleep when she thinks work has to get done… But she’s the one who taught me to be a fighter, to never give up, to hold true to my passions in life. There’s only one of her, and God made sure that he created her for so many wonderful reasons. And he made sure that she was to be my mother!
I am the mother I am because of her!