Today when I woke up I thought about my mother. I probably think about her most every day, but today is special. Today would have been her birthday. Memories of her flooded my mind. Little things like the way she always wore an apron when working in the kitchen. She would fold her apron in half (top part down) and just wear it around her waist. I thought about her cute little figure and what a bundle of energy that she was.

I remember how she would entertain me with her hand puppet shadows on the wall when we lived on Linen Ave. I delighted in that. I remember how she would help me to cut out my paper doll clothes - she could cut so much neater than I. I remember her ironing my pleated skirt - so much work, and done so perfectly. I remember her teaching me to knit little squares so I could make a doll blanket. I remember her helping me to make pizza in my little doll pan when she made pizza.

I remember how I liked to put a hair brush under the sheets in her bed as joke so she would be surprised when she went to bed. I remember the beautiful satin bedspread that she had bought and never used, because it was too good. So she would just take it out every now and then and we would look at it together. I remember her stretching curtains in the front living room on Linen Ave. and the lampshades that still had the plastic paper on them to keep them clean. I can still see the old fashioned washing machine in our kitchen and her wringing clothes through the wringer. I had a little toy one just like it and wrung out my doll's clothes and hung them out on the line on the porch on the third floor. Our landlady would complain about the dripping on the porch. I remember taking the bus into Bridgeport with her to go shopping and how she would buy me a strawberry ice cream soda and a hot dog.

When we moved to Fairfield, I remember the garden that she planted and I remember the wonderful apple pies that she made from the bushels of apples from our tree. I remember a huge snow and ice storm one winter when I had gone to sled on the hills at the Brooklawn Country Club. Apparently she was worried about me being gone so long and went trudging through the snow to look for me. When she found me playing on the hills we stood in wonder together looking at the winter fairy land around us. The snow sparkled in the sunlight and the trees were all coated with ice that sparkled like diamonds.

I remember my mother's homemade meatballs and spaghetti and her chicken soup. I remember her roasting a capon chicken on the weekends and her delicious hamburgers cooked in an iron skillet served on hard rolls from the bakery. I remember her raising dough in the pantry for pizza and pizza-frete, which was fried dough with powdered sugar on top. So delicious!

In her old age, I remember taking walks around the grounds at the apartment here in Tucson, with her holding on to my arm so tightly, and talking with me. I remember taking her to the grocery store where she carefully decided which eggs looked the biggest. I remember the grocery store clerk wistfully looking at her and telling me how lucky I was that I still had my mother around to be with.

I remember my mother's touch, so light on my face, and her telling me before she died in a husky voice how much she loved me. That was her final gift to me.

I guess we never stop missing and longing for our mother's no matter how old we are, but how I wish she could be here today so that I could see her and talk to her and just be with her.

Happy Birthday Ma,

Love, Elaine.