Whenever I remember my mother, I remember how much she loved me.
She scrimped and saved to be able to buy me Christmas presents that I had asked for. When she couldn’t find a ballerina doll for me (either because they were all sold out, or she couldn’t afford one), she bought a baby doll, and stayed up late making a tutu and ballet shoes for her. I loved her!
She would “borrow” my dolls after I went to bed, and sew clothes for them to give me for Christmas. She made sure we always had food on the table, and when I was older, often made me dresses or blouses. In those days, minis were common, and she made my skirts fashionably short. She made me an organizer to hang in my locker, and she sewed a rag doll for me.
We shared a birthday, and each one was spent celebrating together.
She’s been gone over twenty-five years, and I miss her every day.