When my Mother was a bit younger than I am now she lived in North Carolina. All of her pictures from then were ruined in a flood when I was a baby, so I’ve never seen any. At one point she moved into a house with a bunch of girls she’d never met, and I got to meet all of them while I was home. “The House on St. Mary’s Street” – they should write a book with all of the stories I’ve heard.
One of them just posted a picture on Facebook and tagged my Mom in it. 1979…she was nineteen years old. If I could go back in time I would totally live on St. Mary’s Street with them. I know where they were all working when they moved in together so I would weasel my way into the gang and make them add a fifth to the house.
My Mother is so adorable and at nineteen she was even more so. She had chipmunk cheeks, long curly hair and loved floral dresses (sounds like my currently nineteen year old sister!). She was in the National Guard and working in a hospital and taking classes…really doing things with her life. Working towards a goal. She took twenty-four credit hours one semester and received a 4.0 while working full time and raising a kid (after she married Dad). That’s my Mother. She can do anything.
It really bugs me that I will never know her in her teens and twenties. I came along when she was thirty. Grandma doesn’t remember much anymore so stories are hard to come by and Mom is guarded with a lot of the stories she tells. The older I get the more I’m allowed to hear but I want to be one of the group as they were then! I want to go to high school with Mom and help her through my Grandpa leaving and move to Raleigh with her when we graduate. It’s not fair that I don’t get to know her like that. It’s not right that I never will. When she’s old and senile I’ll change her diapers but I won’t know who she crushed on at nineteen or what she wanted to be when she grew up at twelve. I want to hear her first word and poke her little baby belly button and hear her squeal. Beat up her brothers when they held her down and tickled her and save her little sister from falling and dying.
I want to know her.

(That’s her on the right)


One thought on “Mom

  1. I know how you feel. I’d love to know more about my mom and my dad as teens.

This is where the cool people talk about Pirates.

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