In this picture, my mother is 21 years-old. She doesn’t yet know that she’s going to lose three babies before finally having my sister. She doesn’t know about all the moving around we will eventually do or how high her hair will actually be in 1972. She doesn’t know about Junior Auxillary, seeing her daughters marry, buying Christmas for three grandchildren and a great-grandchild, or even about the cancer she will beat. She’s got no idea that Dad will grow up right along beside her and retire with her. She doesn’t know yet because she’s 21 and her whole life she’s been a girl. The woman/wife/mother business is too fresh.
It’s 1963 forever in this picture, and that’s why I love it. Note that shine on the kitchen table – it’s her trademark.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I love you.