I grew up in rural Michigan. I remember hot summer days riding around on my bike with the other neighborhood kids, stopping off for a drink of water every now and then, or riding over to Aunt Belva’s house. Aunt Belva was a surrogate Aunt to the entire neighborhood, and though her children were grown and gone, she stocked her freezer with ice cream treats for us kids.
I remember one hot summer night when my own Mother declared that it was simply too hot to cook supper. My brother and I watched wide-eyed as she got the crank ice cream maker out. “How about ice cream tonight?” she asked, with fun dancing in her eyes. Oh, what a delicious memory of my Mom. It’s my favorite one, I think.
Happy Mother’s Day to the Moms, Surrogate Moms, and Aunt Belvas who are reading. I’ve already had a morning full of hugs and kisses. The cards the noisy boys made in preschool were sweet, “My Mother is beautiful when we are…going to church; My Mother helps me…make my bed; My Mother loves to…make crafts with me.” But I’ll never forget last years card, when Twin B’s said, “My Mother helps me…wipe my bottom.” That one is my favorite.
After church we’re having a picnic at a park, which is infinitely more relaxing to me than a restaurant at this stage of the game. And later today? A movie with whatever friends I can scrounge up. This is the best gift of all—an afternoon off!