When I wrote this poem some years ago, I thought it was a bit boring. Such plain subjects: a kitchen, baking, a woman. Now, reading it again, I love it. Plain or no, simple things are beautiful. Reading it, I remember my mom. She is the subject of this poem. And I remember the grateful, […]
My mom is my hero, always has been: the person I still want to be like when I grow up. In honor of Mother’s Day, here are two things I love about her, traits I want to imitate if I ever have children of my own. She never scolded when I broke things. And that’s
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My mom is the one who smiles at strangers. Genuine, from her eyes smiles—and they respond. My dad barks at dogs in the streets. Not quiet, tentative barking—loud listen-up yapping. The dog owners ignore him and the dogs usually do, too. He notices people, asks strangers random questions like, “Are you pretty good with that
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I love these photos of Mom beside her tall, muscular sons. They do grow up, don’t they? And because I love them, I’ll throw in a few other photos from our Sunday afternoon drive. Last week was summer Bible school at our church, packed full with teaching wiggly little human beings about Jesus and all
A week ago today, Dad and Mom sold the cows. I’ve been wishing for this to happen for years now. Ever since they started the cleaning jobs, around three years ago, they’ve worked too hard. They’ve had to milk the cows morning and evening, of course, besides feeding and cleaning barn and putting up hay
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