From Linda Lee Greene, Author/Artist
My
mother was a coffee drinker, a preference she passed along to me. On the days I
came to call, her first task was to make me a cup of coffee, lightened with a
dollop of milk. And then she would make one for herself exactly like mine: lightened
with a dollop of milk. We sat across from each other at her dining table, drinking
from our individual cups and talking. After a while, I would reach over and
pick up her cup and take a sip of her coffee. And I swear to goodness that even
though there was no tangible difference in the brew in my cup and hers, my
mother’s always tasted better than mine—always!
While
they busy themselves conjuring and weaving the material of their children’s
world, such is the spell that good mothers cast upon them. Our mother’s cup of coffee;
her pot roast; her apple pie; and whatever else it might be, are better than
ours. There is no rational explanation for it that I can identify. It just must
be the enduring spell that good mothers cast upon us.
Happy
99th birthday in heaven, Mom.©
