Mothers Day Memories

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials, heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine, desert us when troubles thicken around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts. – Washington Irving

James Stevenson wrote a book called, "I Meant to Tell You". He recounts his memories as a father, special moments he spent with his son, written in snapshot memoir fashion. This year, I asked my fourth grade students to write to their mothers, using Stevenson's book as their mentor text. As I read what each child wrote, I felt, what each of their mothers might feel. Their memories were thoughtful and well written. One student wrote:
"I meant to tell you that when I come home you are the only one who asks how my day went. I meant to tell you that you are funny twice a day and those two times a day are very funny. I meant to tell you that when you make me do sports outside of school it keeps me healthy and I thank you for that. I meant to tell you that you are the greatest mom ever even though some people say their mom is better. I meant to tell you that I hope you live a long time. I meant to tell you that I hope you have a great mother's day."
I have written  many memoirs since my mother has been gone.
And so to my own mother:
Over the years, I did tell you all the times I remember. But I meant to tell you how important they were to me and how they shaped my life.
I remember when you would whip the ivory soap flakes and put food coloring in so I could soap paint at the dining room table. You didn't mind that it made a mess.
I remember all the times you would sit cutting scraps of fabric to help me make doll clothes for my Ginny and Jill doll.
When you hung the clothes out on the line, I would wash my doll clothes and blankets and hang them out too.
On windy days, I remember you would get towels for my sisters and me and pin them with a diaper pin around our shoulders so we could pretend to be Superman.
I remember how you would come and play jumprope with all of us in the driveway. You taught us double dutch and lots of jumprope rhymes that girls today have never heard of. You were great at jumproping.
When we got our first hula hoops, you hula hooped right along with us until we would fall to the ground laughing so hard our sides hurt.
When you sang to us, all of the songs your mother taught you, all the old WWII songs, I could tell how much they meant to you.
It was a long time ago. But I do remember. You always supported me in the decisions I made. You were always so proud of me in whatever I did. When I was happy, you were happy and when my heart ached, so did yours.
I want to tell you that I am happy but my heart does ache to tell you these things. I suspect you know.