Sunday, May 09, 2010


(Image by Cecilia Carlstedt)

It's early morning here at The Farm, and I'm alone at the moment. Eliza's gone to work, and Joe's asleep, exhausted after a visit to see friends in Columbus for a few days.

It's Mother's Day....I reflect upon the gift of still having my beloved Petie (91) and the love I feel for her every moment of the day. I remember her mother, Bertha Stevenson, and can still see her at the stove in her kitchen in Taylorsville, NC - worn-to-threads apron tied around her waist with a hankerchief in her pocket to wipe her mouth after she spit her tobacco juice in her snuff jar. (I loved sitting in her rocking chair by the window in her room and watching the yellow parakeet she kept on the table beside the rocker).

And then, there's Grandma Shook - less than a year in her grave and more alive in my heart than ever. As I look into my irises and as I prepare to get my dahlias in the ground, her hands join my hands as the soils crumbles between our fingers and the earthworms wiggle in our palms. From the spirit world, she guides me - in every way she guides me.

Being a mom hasn't always been the easiest thing for me. I suppose the job description and the pressures one feels trying to live up to society's and personal expectations make it amost impossible for any woman to feel totally adequate at the task at any given moment...But, I feel safe and secure for Eliza as a mother. Whenever she decides to have children, she has a good role models to invoke and a mom who'll be right there along the way with her.

I've always been embraced by strong women - in my family, in my sisterhood of friendships, as my colleagues, and in the animal world. Cheers and huge gratitude to them all, wherever they are, wherever they rest. .


1 comment:

Very Mary said...

Brilliantly written - you are loved.