a family with five children- riches in abundance; of grandparents, of tears and much laughter and many stories. this is the way my mother grew up. this is the way I grew up.
I still love to hear my mother's stories-& When they return to her growing up days- those are the best.
As I child and even recently, I find myself saying " tell that story about the pet fox, about the pet alligator, about the fire, about the midget twins that lived down the street, about that horrid tobacco colored dress you wore in a beauty pageant, about GranMa jumping out the window into the carp pool (that's the fish pond).
I sometimes, for a moment, think That Story is mine-but the stories are hers, Yet mine too- and they bind and intertwine us and all of the people we love and have lost in our 50 years together. How she remembers them all- and all the stories about her three children and her grandchildren- the subject of these stories always protests- but we to love to hear them. I see my niece, 25 and nephew, 20- grinning at Their Stories- Our Stories.
Happy Mother's Day to One Beloved Storyteller.
my mother( in air) she can tell me all about this picture- but just can't remember those shoes she has on.
