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2 days ago by motherofalltrips My mother came from a generation of women trying to figure out what they might do in the world outside of wife- and motherhood. Around the time that I was in the second grade, she started to take her art more seriously. We lived in an old farmhouse in Connecticut and one of the bedrooms was her studio. It smelled of turpentine and so did she. I remember being embarrassed that she wore paint-splattered coveralls to the supermarket. She was so proud when one of her paintings won a prize in a local contest. She used the winnings to buy
2 days ago by motherofalltrips My lilac bush hasn’t bloomed in years, but last fall I had the tree over it trimmed. They smell as beautiful as they look, just in time for Easter brunch.
3 days ago by motherofalltrips “Look Mara!” When I heard my mother say these words and she was behind the wheel I knew to check and make sure she wasn’t driving us into a ditch. She had a habit of seeing something - wildflowers, a cardinal, light playing off the tops of leaves, sunshine dancing along a mown field - and forgetting to keep her eyes on the road. She taught me always to be looking and always to be seeing, not just with my eyes but with my heart and mind. Without her tutelage I’m not sure I would ever have become a writer
11 hours ago by motherofalltrips Terrible drive today but made up for it by eating all the (uh-mazing) pizza.
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