I Was Okay

I never quite know how the holidays are going to hit me. And by never I mean not since I lost my mother in 2008. This year Mother's Day was especially hard. I expected Christmas to be too. I braced myself as the familiar carols began to play and you know what?

I was okay.

I went shopping and saw little old ladies with their caregivers. I saw children with their grandmothers. I went on Facebook and saw friends making plans to be with their mothers. I braced myself for an emotional onslaught and you know what?

I was okay.

There were no phone calls asking if their were "ears in the cornfield" so we could talk about the kids gifts. There was no one standing next to me singing slightly off key but with great enthusiasm at the Christmas Eve service. There was no one walking on my arm during the lighting of the candles. As the harpist played Away In The Manger I thought I'd be sad but you know what?

I was okay.

I was okay and then it happened. A friend posted about the imperfect perfectness of her brother-in-law's wrapping job. I made a comment about receiving presents wrapped by a blind woman. I got choked up. I miss the inside out wrapping paper and Braille labels. I miss my mother but you know what?

I am okay.

The original Big Wheel from the '60's is back. That's pretty cool as I am also an original from the '60's, only I never left. I heard one reporter say his brother had one but he didn't. All I could think was, 'We were poor but I had one.' Then he said they should always be ridden with adult supervision. Um, considering my father was at work I can only conclude that I was supervised by a blind woman. (Insert chuckle here.) 

Now that's not totally true. I seem to recall our neighbor Doris being around most of the time. She had 2 daughters I played with.  I was also supervised by the parents of my friends Neils and Renee whenever I was at their respective houses. Of course Renee came post Big Wheel. Not much danger in Barbies and paper dolls. But I remember riding my Big Wheel without any other mothers around and without a helmet. 

If you have little one's between the ages of 3-8 years old and under 70 pounds they too can ride a blast from my past. I'm going to go with the reporter on this one though and say they should always be supervised and wear a helmet. I guess it's the mother in me not wanting to take unnecessary risks with children in this day and age. I shudder to think about the mother coming out to find her child injured or worse yet, an empty Big Wheel seat. 

My next blog post will be the day after Christmas. I hope you have to put off reading it because you're supervising your children, which by the way is a great way to make memories. 

Merry Christmas.

Night Blooming Jasmine

Well it's out, my first novel and it was very much inspired by my mother. That being said, it is a work of fiction as I took artistic liberties with the storyline. I created a family for myself which I didn't have growing up and I gave Mom a couple faithful guide dogs. She always wanted one but couldn't get away for the training after marriage. We kids came along much too quickly (well at least my brother did.)

I hope you like meeting Amber-Rose Collier Powell. She's not exactly like my mother--I couldn't do her justice but they are both women of faith in adversity. They both have spunk and courage. Unlike my mother, Amber lets her doubts show, which in some ways makes her more human. (No, I did not just call my mother an android, but her faith and joy was so deep that sometimes it was hard to believe she was real.)  If Mom struggled with her faith, and we all do, she kept the struggle private.

I hope you like visiting my hometown and childhood which in the book is a mix of fact and fiction. I can't remember everything and I never did get the hang of journaling like John-Boy. My brother's girlfriend gave me a diary with a lock on it one year for Christmas. I don't know what ever happened to it, but I'm not worried that some deep dark secrets will come out after I become a rich and famous author. I don't remember writing in it.

I'm kidding about becoming rich and famous. Please support a broke and unknown writer and enjoy a sweet family drama with it's share of ups and downs and nostalgia. Oh, and if you're wondering about the title, that's explained at the end. (The title above the book cover photo is a link that will take you right to my publisher.)