Tuesday is the day to share a “Slice of Life” with Two Writing Teachers. Check out the writers, readers and teachers here. Thanks to Stacey, Anna, Beth, Tara, Dana and Betsy for creating a place for us to work collaboratively.
Today is my mom’s birthday. I searched for the perfect photo. I found several and then I couldn’t make up my mind.
Mom and Dad’s Wedding Day
45th Anniversary and the Grandchildren (My son Evan is the baby in Mom’s hands!)
I searched my memory for the perfect story. I couldn’t make up my mind about which story to tell. My mom has many talents. She has been/is:
- mom, grandmother, great grandmother
- aunt, godmother, friend, confidante, citizen of the world
- caterer, kolache baker, champion of the underdog, crocheted heart maker
- cook, salad maker, bus driver, cake maker and decorator, Volunteer Soybean Spokesperson, sewer, quilter
- support driver for RAGBRAI, concert attendee, Hawkeye Bowl Game attendee
- mother of a nurse, farmer, teacher, doctor, hotel data management, soldier
- a reader
- a writer
So I continued my search for the perfect tribute; I found this poem that I really like! I’ll work on my own for the next special event.
by Maggie Pittman
Her hands held me gently from the day I took my first breath.
Her hands helped to guide me as I took my first step.
Her hands held me close when the tears would start to fall.
Her hands were quick to show me that she would take care of it all.
Her hands were there to brush my hair, or straighten a wayward bow.
Her hands were often there to comfort the hurts that didn’t always show.
Her hands helped hold the stars in place, and encouraged me to reach.
Her hands would clap and cheer and praise when I captured them at length.
Her hands would also push me, though not down or in harm’s way.
Her hands would punctuate the words, just do what I say.
Her hands sometimes had to discipline, to help bend this young tree.
Her hands would shape and mold me into all she knew I could be.
Her hands are now twisting with age and years of work,
Her hand now needs my gentle touch to rub away the hurt.
Her hands are more beautiful than anything can be.
Her hands are the reason I am me.
Family Friend Poems
With a President – to – be?
Memories of my mom . . . Happy Birthday, with LOVE! ❤
Happy Birthday, Fran’s mom! Loved the picture tour – so many wonderful memories.
Thanks, Tara. I laughed a lot when searching through the photos!!!
What a neat trip you took down memory lane. I love all the pictures as well and the poem is lovely.
I love including pictures and it is actually fun when I can’t make up my mind!
I, too, loved all of those photographs… especially the one of her holding your son. That’s a very special one, indeed!
Thanks so much! I was looking for the one of “Grandma” at Evan’s wedding as I thought that would also be a neat addition, but it was off on the external drive . . . and I was out of “looking time”!
So many special times!
(See you all next month!!!)
Wish you mom a very happy birthday!Beautiful poem…and fun to see all the photos. My Dad turns 83 next week. He has moderate Alzheimers and walks with a walker, but his sense of humor is still intact. I might have to write a little something about him.
I wrote about my dad back in the “daily slices” so this was the perfect opportunity to write about Mom. . . I found out how hard it was to focus on the “one” story when I had so many choices!
I look forward to seeing your slice about your dad!
I love the long list of things, she is to you and so many others, the pictures (my she gets around) and the poem (so true). Beautiful tribute to your mom! Happy Birthday!
That was a long list and my post it at the office had a couple more ideas . . . but I forgot it! I think she said she had been to New York 10 times when we talked before I went to TCRWP this summer! The high school photographer won an award for the picture of Obama and her and then Rome/cruise was her -0 birthday . . .Busy, busy, busy!
[…] In this post for Mom’s birthday two years ago, I promised to write my own poem for the next special ocasion. What on earth was I thinking? Not thinking . . . promising! Silly me! […]