A visit from Mom
Recently I browsed through folders from my fireproof safe, and the folder labeled "Miscellaneous" piqued my curiosity. Among the contents was a letter to me dated November 1985 from one of my nieces. She inserted a letter she had found during a visit to the old homeplace. It was a letter I had written to my mother in 1966.
I had written the letter when I was doing my student teaching. I cradled it to my chest, tears streaming down my face, and I remembered with an intensity I hadn’t felt in a long time. I could feel my Mom’s presence there with me. I remembered our closeness and her work ethic. I could see her hoeing and picking cotton, milking cows, preparing meals. She was a self-taught seamstress who sewed for blacks as well as some whites, and I could visualize her in the sewing room. I recalled her kindness, generosity and faith, but most of all the unconditional love she had for all of her 11 children. She and Daddy left us way too soon. They have been gone for more than 40 years, but my love still remains strong. Genuine love never dies; it lives in the heart forever.
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