Into the past

      I start this with some trepidation due to the fact that what I will share are some of the most prized memories I own, but recent experiences had lead me share events that mom and I were part of. So in true Gertrude fashion I will share what I have; if you find value you will find a way to safe harbor it and keep it, if it is a mild entertainment wonderful enjoy the story , if it holds no value consider it an ad for the next great fix all pill and do accordingly . I believe my... mother lived her life this way, she gave to all everything she could regardless of what they thought of her gifts, she truly lived her life giving the last widow mite to all. 
  

       We lived on a small farm in Centerville Utah my mother had a couple of Sunday dress I remember, but mostly her mumus (non fitted tent dress made of polyester jersey material) I think she like the soft feel, than again I cant remember when one of her 9 kids wasn't hanging on her and I know i loved the comfort of the jersey I can still feel today. In her mumu sometime with shoes sometime without we would climb around the low foothills to bring the irrigation water to the various parts of the small farm, I was to small to do it on my own most of the time my brother would do it but sometime mom would and I loved it when she did...I would follow and listen as the clear summer skies echo "oh holy night or the hush of Silent night or Little town of Bethlehem" I remember vividly looking to sky thinking that at any moment it must sure start to snow. Or to see the dust and palm fawns the cobbled street goliath, the garden and the empty tomb as "I walked to today" echoed through the cherry trees. She would often tell me the story before sing me the song I think she knew my mind went where she sung. More than once the cloud parts and angels came down in this little boy imagination clothed in red, gold and white as "oh that I were an angle " rang out with her beautiful clear strong voice. One day lost in this very scene my mother stopped with a slight laugh, I open my eyes to see what had stop her singing, there smiling down at me a glint in her eye the irrigation water had reached where I was sitting my feet covered in mud and as was must customary dress all I had on was a pair of underwear which where know completely submerge...she held her hand out pull me to her..and even through I am an old man the tear flow freely and my heart burst with joy as I remember as if yesterday "come hear Eric you are a special little boy and I love you" as she wrapped me in her arm wet, muddy but complete satisfied to find refuge with the warmth of her bosom wrapped in the softest of jersey Again she had given her last widow mite to a small muddy boy and how grateful I am.

Gertrudism : saying my mother loved don't know where they came from or why they were important but she used them often with me.

Gertrudism #1 "Gratitude is the only path to joy in any venture "

To be continued