My mother had three kids, kept a spotless house, worked in the family business, dealt with laundry down steep cement steps in a dank, unfinished basement using a ringer washer and depending on a clothesline and sunshine, lived through the death of her youngest as an infant, managed questionable activities of her son, and taught independence to her physically disabled daughter. She has been gone for many, many years, but she lives on in the hearts of the kids who survive her. On Mother’s Day, I reflect on her love for us.
