I miss my mom
I was just reading through some recipes trying to choose what to make for a New Year’s brunch. I came across a recipe in my mom’s handwriting and just after the fond recognition of it being hers I burst into tears. This happened to me a couple of weeks ago too. I was sorting through the many donated children’s books given to the missionary apartment. I came across one about this mother who had a little boy that she would rock and recite a little poem to about how this would always be her little boy, no matter how big he got and she would always love him. As the book progresses, the boy gets older but the mom still takes that big boy or even man in her arms and rocks with to this verse. By the end of the book the son rocks his aging mother. The whole scene sent to down the memory lane of missing my own mom so dearly. I can hardly type this without it all coming back again so vividly and fighting off the tears again.
This was my third Christmas without her.