Letter to my Children (November 16, 2020)

Dear Jonathan, Sarah, Josh, and Christina,

So you probably wonder what my days are like. I know Ron Zarou was always telling your dad that I needed to get a job. Ludicrous, since I’ve never NOT been industrious. Worked hard all my life, with brief respites in the wee hours of the morning for coffee and reading news. Taught you kids to sew, and you then began to make cornbags (Thank you, Brenda Marsh! For the idea), which gave you pocket money for adventures in your youth! Still making them. Put up a box by the road, for folks to buy them.

Of course, tending the grounds. Actually, the inground saltwater pool was a breeze to care for. The leaves are my least favorite job. Raking. Josh, see the small wooden man you made me when you were 11 years old? He guarded the rock wall all summer.

Last winter, the grandsons and I built this wraparound bookshelf in the fireplace room. Intended to shop all year at old bookstores to fill all the shelves. But covid hit. So they remain unfilled. It was Ellen’s idea. Took about a month. Your nephews helped carry the wood in from the garage, sort the nails, sand in between paint coats. Arrange the mitered trim around the leg bases for nailing. Busy little working boys.

And although moving and building a log home, Aunt Jackie regifted me our old chair, and it’s on the dining room table now. Recovering in process, finding old treasures buried deep inside its crevices, like the first catechism book of your childhood. One of the first lessons in it....honor your father and mother that it may be well with you. Sigh.

Love you all, hugs and kisses.
Mom