My Mommy, sometimes yes, sometimes no…

Sometime big, sometimes small my Mommy…

Things that fit. Fit in a good Book, Title, Acknowledgements, Accurate Chapter Names, Maps, Pictures. Springtime.

the smell of soap,

the way new babies smell, they fit. Springtime

The smell of new sneakers, baseball Mitts, Somethings fit.

I love the soft skin of my Mom’s beautiful peach fuzz filled face. Things of Spring…during the Second world war she collected peaches in a barn in Geneva and I’m convinced something of that gentle fuzz and golden light stayed on her all through our births her work as a Nurse and just the amazing and oh so grounded person she is. She died in 88 and I can still see her with the sun behind her lighting up her soft beautiful skin and always being there for us. Always. I know we don’t all see it with our eyes, some see it in their hearts, some just hear her calling. She’s there and she’s so proud of our just keeping on and keeping giving and making her so so proud of her boy and girls. No matter how bad it got…and occasionally it would get a little dim or a little rough she never gave in. That’s were the grit in her only son and girls comes from. And I’m so glad. I feel this way every spring, like if I could just look quickly enough…she’d be right there in her little halter top trimming those roses and talking to them all the while. And as far as I’m concerned she still is.

Spring ;  The way the crown of a new babies head smells…they fit the spring. The way freshly turned ground smells… it fits springtime.

The smell of new sneakers and baseball mitts, somethings fit. I love the soft skin of my Mom”s face with it’s peach fuzz of an old woman’s gentleness, Springtime = Mommy, thank goodness it’s been a long winter.

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