.........................and on Mother's Day we celebrate them all.
Always With You
Your Mother is always with you.
She's the whisper of the leaves
as you walk down the street,
She's the smell of bleach
in your freshly laundered socks.
She's the cool hand on your brow
when you're not well.
Your Mother lives inside your laughter.
She's crystallized in every teardrop.
She's the place you came from,
your first home.
She's the map you follow
with every step that you take.
She's your first love
and your first heartbreak......
and nothing on earth can separate you.
~~~~~~~~~~Author Unknown
A Mother laughs our laughterSheds our tears,
Returns our love,
Fears our fears,
She lives our joys,
Cares our cares,
And hopes our hopes.
~~~~~~~~Julia Summers
My Mother died in 2003, she was 91 and had lived an interesting life. Born "within the sound of Bow Bells" in London, she was a true Cockney, but she grew up in the beautiful town of Windsor where my grandfather was assigned to Windsor Castle as an officer in the Coldstream Guards. Her playground was the castle grounds, she and her twin brother would run up and down the castle steps - sounded like great fun in those days when children were sent out to play after breakfast and told to be home at dusk! She was sent to boarding school with her older sister and then learned her craft, dressmaking, and was apprenticed to a Royal dressmaker in London where she made gowns for Queen Elizabeth (the late, much adored "Queen Mum"). After moving to Devonshire where my grandfather had purchased a pub/B&B, she enjoyed life on the coast. At the start of WWII she joined the Royal Air Force and worked underground plotting positions of enemy planes crossing the English Channel. There she met my Father and they were married in 1942 - when the war ended they set up home in bucolic Devon where they remained, raising my brother and I. Times were tough following the War. Mother was a hard worker and a strict parent, I am who I am because of her.
Fast forward....................Mother said she would never have let me leave England to work in Washington, D.C., supposedly for just one year, if she thought I would never return to live. For forty years we traveled back and forth, "across the pond", never going more than a year without a hug and then another teary goodbye until the next time. I dragged my kids there loaded down with baggage including a suitcase full of cloth diapers - no Pampers in the sixties! She literally had to drag my Dad here, just once, because he was terrified of flying, but he had a ball whilst in the USA and spent the remainder of his life talking about the trip to anyone who would listen, including strangers on the street. Mother kept visiting here until she was about eighty. She loved everything about her visits, the long flight, the weather, the stores, the scenery, and of course seeing her family and all the many friends she had made here over the years.
My trip across the pond in March 2003 was expected to be one where I'd be spending a couple of weeks visiting Mother in the rehab hospital. She'd been a patient there since January after suffering a small stroke, and a subsequent bad fall, at home. On arrival at the hospital I feared I had made it just in time, and although she was unable to speak to me, she smiled and knew me, and I did all the talking for an hour or so before kissing her goodbye and promising to be back in the morning. The phone call came just as I was leaving the house.........I still rushed to the hospital. They said she had been waiting for me to come home and I know that all she needed was to see me one more time. I will always be grateful that I got to see my dear Mother that one last time..............................on her side of the pond.
I read the above poem "Always With You" at her funeral. I will be thinking of her especially on Mother's Day.
....................there was time to sleep, long lovely hours of night snuggled in a comfy bed, enveloped in a puffy duvet, lavender water scenting my pillow. However, somewhere along the way my bed time has become shorter and shorter because there is always so much to do and sleep seems at the bottom of the list! I know this is not a good thing so I plan to try to get more sleep, Now if only DH would stop snoring.............
These are some beautiful beds from French Country magazine.
So that's all for now........a little inspiration goes a long way.........I'm off to my bed right now as it's already Friday.
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Have to feed our feathered....and furry....friends!
A favorite bird house - too tall for a shelf so sits on the floor.
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