To honor the mothers in my life, I am taking this week to write about the ones who've been a part of my life.
My second grandmother (in absolutely random order) is the mother of my (adoptive) father.
Every spring, my brother, sister and I would spend a couple days at her house in the country. She had a very large yard, with a small creek (or maybe it was a ditch) running along the side. We weren't allowed to climb down into it, but we passed much time peering over the edge.
In her yard, which was as large as 4 yards in our neighborhood, there was ample room to explore and play. There was also an opportunity to learn the value of hard work. And that is what we did. We spent a day helping her to clean up the sticks, trim back the trees and whatever other chores she needed done. When we were done, she rewarded our efforts handsomly with tuna noodle casserole. I don't know her secret ingredient, but I suspect it was love, because to this day she says it was nothing special, but we really enjoyed it. In fact, we 3 kids ate the whole pan. She now insists that we did save some for her, but I am not so sure.
It was a joy to help her. She let us play and work was an adventure. Now I live so far from her, but every spring when it's time to clean up the yard, I think of her and wish I could be there to help her again. And noone makes tuna noodle casserole like her.