My Momma

I have never called my momma "mother." Nothing wrong with that, it was just "momma" at our house. To all of us that name implies so much. Now that I am a momma myself I can begin to realize what my own mother did for me growing up. Sacrifices galore, many that I am sure I will never know about. Laughter in our home. Security in knowing that she was there at home and I could call for any reason and she would come get me. A love for reading. A deep love and loyality for family. I can't even name them all because it is all a jumble of good childhood memories and a feeling of being deeply wanted and delighted in. She was not perfect and never pretended to be, but she was mine and I love her. And she still is mine. My mother-in-law remarked to one of her friends the other day about what a good mother I had. I can call her about anything and she comes running to save the day. She loves my children fiercley and my husband. She laughs with me at the kids and listens to me drone on and on when I need an adult to talk to. She is the best and I want to be a momma just like her.