Love Letter to my mom

When I think of Spring, I think of my mom, and her love for our front porch. Our slanting, foundation drooping in, old screen porch.

April's arrival and with the promise of warm weather, she would open our front door that had been nocturnal for months, and selectively open as many windows as possible without allowing the escape of our black cat. One of the window screens, has a small square patch, that she and I repaired one summer when I was much younger. I remember being amazed at how we could fix it all by ourselves, and that she let me use the metal shears...

When I think of Spring, I think of my mom, and the way she would care for our lilac bushes that were more like trees. Trimming them until the point where she would worry that she scalped them, and they looked like she had given them each a buzz cut. But she would remind us, and herself, that they would grow back soon and bushier yet. Above, you can see us doing just this. It was Lauren and my job to collect the fallen branches and buds, some of which would decorate our porch, and entire house, but most of which would make its way to the neighborhood compost site. 

Last week the lilacs started blooming in Columbus, and it was Fashion Revolution Week. I was thinking a lot about my mom's love of Spring, and my love of clothes, and then I remembered this photo above. The one of us trimming lilacs in our backyard. I remembered these jeans that my mom is wearing (and still wears), worn hems hidden with bright pink trim. I doubt that I would be the mender, and maker I am today without having grown up with a resourceful and creative person like my mom.

She is the kind of person who asks questions and wonders. The person who brought color changing lipstick in to my life, and who always said yes to feather boas, and spontaneous yard sales.

I love you mom!