At age 25, mom had six children; one child after the other. I remember walking to school with my brothers. I’d look back over my shoulder and see mom standing at the window. She always had one child in her arms.
One hand holds the child,
The other –
Makes the meal,
Finds socks and shoes,
Packs lunches,
Combs the hair,
And readies us for school.
At the window she stands,
Her blessings in line,
One hand holds the child,
The other – Holds mine
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
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