For the first time in my life, this Mother’s Day will dawn and I will have no flowers to send, no call to make, no smile coming over the line, filled with pleasure at the sound of my voice. The idea of a Mom-less Mother’s Day makes me so sad I am tempted to pretend I am four, sticking my thumb in my mouth and burying my head under the pillows.
I am pretty sure she’d frown on that though so I am going to have to resort to drastic measures to sooth my sore heart. In my life that means creamed tuna fish on buttered toast, with peas — the ultimate comfort food, held in reserve by Mom for those occasions when you are too tired, too hurt, or too lonely to manage any thing more elaborate for dinner.
My mom was not that interested in fancy…
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