My Mother

February was my mother’s birth month. I think about her all the time, But, in February, she seems somehow closer.

In the 1960’s (that ancient time when I was a kid), my mother was atypical. She worked full-time. She had a college degree and a real career. She never baked. She could barely sew on a button. Gardening? Wasn’t interested. In not fitting the mold, she was the best. She wore designer clothes before most people in northern New England knew what that meant. She slept on a satin pillow case to insure that her hair stayed perfect all week. She drove her own car in a world of one-car garages. When she was the PTA room-mom for my fourth grade class, some of the kids didn’t believe she was a “real” mother. She just didn’t look the part.

But, boy, was she a REAL mother! She made me feel safe and adventurous at the same time. She put dinner on the table every night and, when it was cleared, sat down with her charts and papers getting ready for work the next day. Unless…there was music on our hi-fi. Then, she was up dancing and singing like the star we knew she could be. She traveled the globe and never moved away from our small ranch house. She was mother and marketer, international business woman and the center of the family. She was remarkable!

That’s all I wanted to say. It’s February again and my remarkable mother was on my mind. Thanks for reading.