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Array
(
[sid] => 148965
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Speaking about my Mom
[time] => 2009-04-07 13:21:34
[hometext] => something fun....... not really a poem just thoughts about her.
[bodytext] => Now I wouldn't say this would be a rhyming verse or maybe not even a poem. It will be a speaking note on none other than my mom. I have heard it said many times before, "you are not much like her" Thus, that is where my I am an alien comes from, *laughs* Ok, here we go. My mom, her name is Lois, and she has huge brown eyes. She is small for her size, but when you make her mad watch out, a little fire cracker in disguise. She has spent many years being in a care giver mode. Her hand full with Kevin and I when we were small. Our wild kid antics and fighting, would be enough to drive someone crazy not mom, one way or another we learned, no fighting. She then spent more years caring for her mother, my grandmother, another small lady, with a huge heart but very ill, mom worked all day, taking care of her at night. Sometimes missing work, and church on Sundays. We lived in a rural area in Idaho, yes where the potato's grow. For many years my tiny pretty mom worked in fresh pack. A very hard job, long hours, cold hands, extreme temperatures. You never heard her complain, all those years, all those hours. One would have to spend a day in a potato fresh pack to understand the just of what the jobs inside entailed. I also worked for years at the same place with my mom, except in a different area of the place, long hours, hard work, bloody fingers. Mom, very quiet, kind hearted, gentle like a lamb. A spring breeze, or a soft feather like snow flake in winter. Some explain her as a bible figure, referring her to Job, a woman with the patience of job, the staying power. Faithful to my dad for many many years, still is. Faithful to her church, serving for years in all she was called to do. Maybe I would describe her as glue, trying to hold it all together, us all together. Years at times take their toll, but she doesn't waver, hanging on with both hands, trying to keep the peace, when at times there is no peace to be found. That is her though. Ya know what? I do love her. [comments] => 6 [counter] => 183 [topic] => 54 [informant] => shelby [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 14 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => happypoetry )
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