My Mother Made Her Own Patterns

A pattern? Mom did not need one. She made her own Like her own jelly, jam, and one time ketchup When kids came to play, they stuck with her She was more fun than I was, but a stickler for truth. She had a sense of humor that would laugh the trees silly Wasted it on church, perpetually attending everything there But maybe not a waste. Maybe it was what she needed Being a mother of twins and a quiet boy Her quilts were done with tiny stitches She also quilted, crocheted, tatted, Loved being a wife and mother Loved cooking, baking and cleaning I never figured out how anyone could love cleaning. She was perpetually vibrant and young. Youthful in her thinking. A one-of-a-kind woman. She would do what was right always, stand up to everyone. She wore integrity like a necklace, not a crown. We thought she would live to be one hundred and five like our mean Great Aunt Eudora. Sadly she did not. I pick up the phone to call her almost twice a week. Forgetting she has been gone since January. It is weird to release a person like this Obviously, I never can.