My Mom

My mom clapped to music while she was driving the car. My mom cooked fabulous meals before you had to worry about using an abundance of salt. My mom was a bridge playing champion. My mom had salt and pepper graying hair that garnered much admiration.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “my mom.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “My Mom”

  1. Mother’s Day was just peaking around the corner…….a day of flowers, cards, special meals (or meals at restaurants) and just general bragging about how your “children were treating you.”

    Mother’s Day is a day of Springtime joy or is it?

    Carole sat at her desk looking out over her yard and saw the daffodils blowing about in the gusts of springtime wind and contemplated her children.

    So far, Mother’s Day, that long anticipated day, was almost 1/2 through and she had yet to hear from any of her 4 children…….

  2. Separation can be ghastly. A long period of living in care.
    I remember the tears shed by my brother and I as we arrived holding hands, both upset and afraid as we entered the large Victorian building.
    Many years later there was a joyful reunion when we were re-introduced to a loving home.
    It is then you appreciate your long lost Mom.

  3. My Mom is a warrior and a worrier. Since we were small, she fought for us to make sure that we missed nothing. She fought with doctors, who didn’t pay enough attention to us or treated us incorrectly, she fought anyone who would hurt us. Especially, after my father’s death. And she was and is always worried that someone or something could hurt us.
    Now a mother myself, I can understand her worries. On the other hand, having become a mother in a different and freer society, I do percent my Mom’s worries sometimes as intrusion. But they are nothing else than the expression of her love. I love you, Mamica!

  4. From the looks of the dilapidated porch railing with its peeling paint and the overgrowth of dandelions on the front lawn, I knew that it was time to sell the house and look for different living arrangements for my mom. Her dementia had gotten progressively worse and her short term memory was almost shot.

    I remember my mom as a young woman—svelte with beautiful green eyes and long raven hair. She’s now the shadow of what she used to be. Age does not spare anyone. Some are hit harder than others, but the trick is to have a good quality of life because without that, it’s only an existence.

  5. She was the first one to get up in the morning and get the wooden stove going.Battling arthritic knees,she would pour out hot bathwater,and patiently wait for us.Her face would light up at the sight of us.Hot tea would be boiling on the stove and omlettes would be ready by the time we came back from bath .She was the invisible face of our daily existence who lived for her children and their well being.
    My mom was a mere girl when she was married to my father, a match made by the seniors, she had never even met him…

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