Saturday, May 11, 2013

Five Kids, Five Senses. One Wonerful Mom.

The smell of lemon furniture polish.  The sound of the washing machine spinning and the dryer humming.  The taste of blue ribbon winning lasagna.  The sight of her cleaning the bathroom for the second time that week.  The feel of nice clean sheets that she religiously washes on a weekly basis.

The smell of Christmas cookies baking in the oven.  The sound of a Hank Williams song playing on the radio. The taste of a strawberry pie on my birthday.  The sight of her making the beds in the morning.  The feel of her hand holding mine during prayer.

The smell of a meatloaf cooking to perfection in the oven.  The sound of the beater mixing cake batter in a mixing bowl.  The taste of medicine given when I am sick.  The sight of her worried face as she looks at the thermometer.  The feel of her cool, but loving hands on my forehead.

The intoxicating smell of a blackberry pie.  The sound of her laughing while on the phone with her brother.   The taste of toast with cinnamon on it that she made for breakfast for me.  The sight of her washing a big pile of dishes for the tenth time that day.  The alluring feel of that clean and soft towel I wrap myself in after my shower because she never forgets to do laundry.

The welcoming smell of a candle burning on the coffee table.  The sound of her voice after I walk through the front door after school.  The taste of the snack that she prepared for me so I could do my homework without having to feel my stomach grumble.  The sight of her hanging sheets and clothing over the wash line.  The feel of right fitting shoes on my feet.

The smell of spaghetti sauce in the pan on the stove.  The sound of her singing (off key) to a George Jones song.  The taste of that nasty homemade chicken noodle soup that she swears heals all.  The sight of her and my dad holding hands in the front seats of the van.  The feel of air conditioning that could only be felt in their bedroom. 

The smell of sunblock as I got ready to go lay in the sun with her.  The sound of the pool pump running.  The taste of ice cream that she dished up so we could cool down after being in the sun.  The sight of her taking our bathing suits and hanging them over the shower stall.  The feel of a slight sunburn that doesn't seem to hurt till after a shower is taken.

The smell of the flowers from her garden.  The sound of her calling the dog to come eat.  The taste of the turkey on Thanksgiving.  The sight of her holding Cuddles in her lap.  The safe feeling of being in bed, at home, every single night after she hugs me goodnight.

The fresh and clean smell of my clothes as I slip them over my head.  The sound of The Young and the Restless playing in the living room.  The taste of that hard boiled egg sandwich she made for me to watch during our soap opera.  The sight of her laughing with her dad whenever they got together. 
The feeling of fright I had when I knew I had done something wrong.

The old musty smell of Clemmark, a cabin that we frequented over my childhood.  The sound of the pool table being used downstairs at Clemmark.  The taste of tacos prepared by her and my aunt.  The sight of all of us sitting around a huge table to eat.  The feeling of gratitude that I got to enjoy such awesome beauty with a terrific mom like her.

My mom is a wonderful and loving and gracious woman.  I strive everyday to be just like her.  To love the way she loved and to have the same strength and faith and endurance that she has in her life.  God willing, I'll be able to be half the awesome lady she is. 
She loves and gives without question and does it all with elegance and grace - and with five children to boot.
I never sat on a dirty toilet at home. I never showered in a dirty tub at home.  I never went hungry at home.  I always had clean clothes at home.  I never slept in stinky sheets at home.  I always had love at home.
Do you know why all of these things were possible for me?
Because I had a kick ass mom who never stopped taking care of any of us.  She just did it. 
For that, I thank you. 
For that, I love you.
For that, I say, with tears in my eyes, I wouldn't be who I am today if it wasn't for you, Mom.
I love you Mom...

My dad, mom, and I up at Clemmark

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