Wandering Along the Path: Right Speech

My mother was an amazing woman.  She only was allowed to go to school until third grade, as she had to help with the farm and her many siblings.  At fifteen, she moved to a nearby town to live in a hotel room with her older sister and younger brother.  She worked in a pants factory.  When she was nineteen she married my father, after her sweetheart died in the war.  I was born two years later.  She sewed and cooked and kept a spotless house.  I was not quite what she expected, and I got into mischief.  My brother was born 2 3/4 years later, and she was done.  I know she read to me, because I can remember it, and the books.  I was dressed like a china doll.  So was my brother.  I got my facility with children from her, and my love of crafts.  People never guessed she hadn't been to school or had come from such poor white trash.  She attracted friends wherever we lived.  She was amazing with design of clothing and home, a brilliant contract bridge player and a survivor of two cancers:  the first when she was just 34.  She had a fierceness about her that wouldn't give up, and she fought with my dad because it was necessary.  Otherwise he would have bulldozed her under.  I didn't appreciate her nearly enough and lost her when I was forty.  But I appreciate her now.  Happy Mother's Day, Mom.