Aunt Norie’s Sewing Room
I saw two old gentlemen sitting on a park bench along the side of the square. Oh, my, this was so many years ago. What brought it to my mind now, I’ll never know. They must have been talking about their yesteryears. However, laughing, they asked me, “Just how do you moms do it? We’ve been sitting here talking about moms, our moms, in fact. They swore they had eyes in the back of their heads. We saw you coming and decided you’d be a good one to ask.”
I was toting a baby, Lois. In fact, big brother Ernie was holding onto little sister Glenda’s hand. We were a happy crew. One of the men asked Ernie, “Does your mom have eyes in the back of her head? My mom sure did. She never missed a thing I ever did. She’d catch me every time.”
Mothers have to be unique. So many comments about moms. One old gentleman: “Oh, my mom was quite a package. How she knew what she knew — I couldn’t fib my way out of anything. Even as an adult, she’d just laugh and say, 'Moms just know, I guess. Just one of God’s gifts to moms, I guess.' I just always left it there and thanked God for the special mom he gave me.”
Another: “I remember the castor oil. How did she ever know if, or when, or how, we might need that stuff? That was the most awful stuff ever created.”
Yet another: This fellow said, “But how did she know when a fellow was hurting so bad inside you wanted to cry, but you couldn’t? You were just too big to cry like a baby, yet here she was, ‘What’s wrong, son?’ and she saw you through it without ever embarrassing you.”
There are far too many moms sitting alone in nursing homes today. If yours is one of those, shame on you. Get that fixed and soon.
Bye now, and God Bless. Pray for your moms and dads.
— Aunt Norie, P.O. Box 265, Tonganoxie, KS 66086; firstname.lastname@example.org.