Today is Mother’s Day. It is the day I honor my mother and my memories of her. I put my heart into this posting so every year I post basically this same entry with only a few little changes.

My mother was amazing. She was generous, fun to be with and was the perfect martyr when she needed to be, a skill I think most mothers have. It was her tone of voice so filled with pain that caused our guilt to well to the surface. “I’ll do it myself,” she’d say. We’d scurry to do whatever she wanted.

My sisters and I laugh often about the curses she inflicted on us: the love of everything Christmas and never thinking you have enough presents for everyone, giving Easter baskets overflowing with candy and fun toys and surprising people with a gift just because.

My mother had a generosity of spirit. She was funny and smart and the belle of every ball. She always had music going in the kitchen as she worked so she could sing along. She played Frank and Tony and Johnny and from her I learned the old songs. My mother drew all the relatives to her, and her house was filled. My cousins visited often. She was their favorite aunty. My mother loved to play Big Boggle, and we’d sit for hours at the kitchen table and play so many games we’d lose track of the time. Christmas was always amazing, and she passed this love to all of us. We traveled together, she and I, and my mother was game for anything. I remember Italy and my mother and me after dinner at the hotel bar where she’d enjoy her cognac. She never had it any other time, but we’re on vacation she said and anything goes. I talked to her just about every day, as did my sisters. I loved it when she came to visit. We’d shop, have dinner out then play games at night. I always waited on her when she was here. I figured it was the least I could do.

My mother loved extreme weather shows, TV judges and crime. She never missed Judge Judy. She also liked quiz shows and she and I used to play Jeopardy together on the phone at night. She always had a crossword puzzle book with a pen inside on the table beside her chair, and I used to try to fill in some of the blanks. On the dining room table was often a jigsaw puzzle, and we all stopped to add pieces on the way to the kitchen. My mother loved a good time.

She did get feisty, and I remember flying slippers aimed at my head when I was a kid and one time a dictionary, a big dictionary was thrown which luckily missed though the binding broke. I pointed that out to her and that made her madder. She expertly used mother’s guilt on us, her poor victims. We sometimes drove her crazy, and she let us know, none too quietly. We never argued over politics. She kept her opinions close. We sometimes argued over other things, but the arguments never lasted long.

Even after all this time, I still think to reach for the phone to call my mother when I see something interesting or have a question I know only she can answer, but then in a split second I remember. When I woke up this morning, my first thought was of her, and how much she is missed. No one ever told me how hard it would be.

My house was cold this morning. I decided to put on my sweatshirt and turn on the heat. I made a new pot of coffee and toasted an onion bagel then slattered cream cheese on it. I am happy, warm and content.

Today will be rainy. Yesterday too was rainy. The high will be 55°. It is a good day to stay close to hearth and home. I’ll stay in my cozies. I have some plants I’ve been rooting which need to be potted. I have a book to read. Maybe I’ll even sneak in a nap.

When I came downstairs this morning, I found a stick on the mat by the door. I also found a couple of pine cones, one chewed. Nala had been collecting again.

I used to love to watch Creature Double Feature on Saturdays on channel 56. That is when I started to love classic horror movies like Dracula, Frankenstein and the mummy, Japanese monsters like Rodan and Godzilla and all those wonderful black and white science fiction movies. Even now, if I notice they are on, I’ll watch. I have a wonderful collection of 50’s sci-fi. Some of the plots are silly, but they are the best parts, a crawling hand, a man with two heads, meteorite shards which petrify people and one of my favorites, The Brain That Wouldn’t Die, a scientist keeps the head of his girlfriend alive after she is decapitated in a car accident. She is not happy to say the least. One of my favorite lines, “I’ll give her a brain and a heart.” All he is missing is courage. I’m now watching Asteroid Down The Hunt for Hidden Aliens.

Many theme songs from TV programs occupy several of my memory drawers. I even remember the theme from The Real McCoys, and I was quite young when that was on. How about, “Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen. Robin Hood, Robin Hood, with his band of men.” I could sing the rest but I figure this is enough. I remember the opening of Robin Hood with its dramatic music and the sound of the arrow hitting the tree. Superman’s opening had words. We found out he was able to leap tall buildings in a single bound and was faster than a speeding bullet. I still have trouble believing the Lone Ranger’s theme is really The Willian Tell Overture.

The other day I needed to put my date of birth on a website. I scrolled so long through the years my hand got tired.