I’ve received a few Mother’s Day gifts over the years from my kids and my husband — they are the most important ones. I won’t bore you with a catalog, just believe me that no matter how or where they acquired the gift that each was the most wonderful thing that happened to me.
Often Dick lets me shop for my own. Since we’ve moved to Missouri, the choice is annual plants many times. This year, I chose a pair of Fiskars telescoping shrub/tree cutters! I worked on one of the big forsythias yesterday and the ‘lopper’ wasn’t long enough! It’s just a big scissor, not power. I like the therapy of trimming without noisy engines or clattering blades.
Throughout the many years, one memory stands out that shines brighter than all others and has been a fond memory. Memory is all it can be for the gift was not a tangible.
One Mother’s Day as we left Church with the three older kids, then all 6 yrs and under, Dick announced that we would be eating out. He had us stop at the store and pick up hot dogs and the trimmings. Then, we went to a park and made a camp fire. In some sort of Mother’s Day phenomenon, I found myself, in my Sunday clothes, standing over a fire, roasting the hot dogs while Dick was watching kids.
I overheard him say, “Every time I turn around, they are into something else.”
No kidding! That little memory has been a sweet one to dwell upon — now he knew! For me, that experience was shinier and more beautiful and valuable than if he “went to Jared.”