We were sitting in church, and I could hear my mother singing. It sounded pretty good.
“Mommy, why don’t you sing in the choir?” I ask her.
“Because my voice isn’t very good,” she replies.
But it sounded just right to me. She was definitely choir-worthy.
Then I started back to drawing with my crayons. Crayons were quiet and, while I was drawing, I was more likely to listen to the sermon.
I was in a school play, and we were singing “The Eyes of Texas.” I had to make a giant Texas with eyes on it, but I couldn’t seem to get it right—the Texas was lopsided and the eyes were little squinty, lashless things.
Sigh
“It’s okay, Laura. I can help you with it. It has to be big enough so they can see it well from the audience.”
And my mom made the best poster board Texas you’ve ever seen. The eyelashes must’ve been four inches long.
We were camping in Tennessee, and, while playing with some other kids at the campground, I became frustrated and threw a Styrofoam cup full of snails and mud at one of them.
Apparently, he and his family were about to go out to dinner, and I had thoroughly messed up his only clean shirt.
I felt awful...I knew I should’ve controlled my temper. He made sure I knew I would be in big trouble.
“I’m s-s-sorry, Mommy,” I stutter out on a sob.
“From what I understand, he deserved it. You don’t need to cry. Now where are those Kleenex?”
My new best friend, Julie, had these really neat red, white and blue suede shoes. I wanted some just like them.
I wanted what I wanted.
So when we went to buy shoes, my mom let me get a pair even more patriotic than Julie’s. Mommy wanted me to get penny loafers or something else more in style, I think, but she let me make the decision.
“Do you like them, Laura?”
“Yes,” I quietly respond.
I’m not sure I remembered to say thank you, but I was overjoyed inside.
We were at a boutique in North Dallas, and my mom was trying on multi-colored party pajamas. She looked really pretty—I think my dad had a work party or something.
The saleslady mentioned the price, and it seemed to be first cousins with exorbitant to me.
“You can’t buy those, Mommy. They’re too expensive,” I announce in an overloud voice.
“Oh, it’s all right,” she confidently answers with a little laugh. Her eyes narrow with a look of purpose as she pivots precisely in front of the mirror.
She was right. My normally frugal dad didn’t seem to mind at all.
My mom took me out of school the other day for no reason at all. We went to all kinds of interesting antique places and out to lunch. We found an old doll carriage, and she bought it. She said Daddy will paint it for me, and she’ll make a little mattress and pillow for it.
Once the carriage was newly painted, she sewed the little pillow and mattress and covered it in pink gingham…just like she promised. It matched my room and everything. My doll was riding in style all over the house.
Squeak, squeak...squeak, squeak!
The wheels made a creaky sound as I wheeled it around, but nobody complained, not even a peep.
And I was too thrilled for words.
Happy Mother's Day, Mom!
Comments