My Mother

My Mother My mother woke up this morning, another day has appeared. For eighty years she has woken up, six children she has reared. Our day starts like most others, coffee toast and conversation. Every so often she talks of life’s trials and tribulations. She grew up on a farm with her father and mother. Siblings she had, four sisters and two brothers. Her father raised roosters that fought till the end, Her mother was thrifty and knew just what to spend. The garden to be weeded, the vegetables to be canned. Lots of fruit to be jammed, for when summer does end. Animals to be tended to and, many clothes hung to dry. Her mother had no time to listen to small children cry. Bread to be made and meals to be cooked. Life on the farm is not as serene as it looks. My mother grew up and she married Fred Penn. She was only seventeen, way back then. My mother raised her family, six children she bore. With Fred sometimes drinking, her life was a chore. She taught us to love, and be thankful for what we had. She taught us even though he drank that man was our “DAD”. Mom taught us to have strength, hardships we could endure. She set a good example; going through hell at times I'm sure. She stayed with Dad for sixty plus years. He passed away in a room full of tears. My mother is strong; she wakes up every day with a smile She has taught me that unhappiness only last a little while. That life goes on doing what it s going to do, So we might as well live it, Me and you.