Happy Birthday, Ma

Although she has been gone a few years now, there is much I remember about my mother.
I remember her leaving for work every night at 5.
I remember her being my class room-mom a couple of years. She didn't decline when I told her I volunteered her. I never heard her complain about it then, even though it meant she would be inconvenienced. She did ask me not to volunteer for things without checking first.
I remember shopping with her for groceries and getting the chance to put a few "treats" in the cart. And picking out black cherry soda when we were buying 20 or 30 cans for summmer lunches.
I remember her taking us to swimming lessons at Lion's Club Beach, and going down to the lake when we wanted to swim.
I remember making "mud traps" in our driveway and her getting stuck 1/4 mile from the house.
I remember her quiet strength and love.
I remember her taking the time over 4 years to turn our neighbor's Black Lab from chasing us to being our best protector.
I remember her tolerance for us kids being stupid, well no, being kids.
I remember her putting up with my father.
I remember her welcoming anyone I ever brought to the house.
I remember her never saying she wanted more but enjoying what she had.
I remember her laughing.
I remember making her cry. Sorry, Ma.
I remember making her proud of me, and her telling me. Thanks, Ma.
I remember her speaking French on the phone and knowing she was talking to her family. Or Gerry (her best friend).
I remember her with Eben, her first grandchild. Then with my kids. And finally with great-grandchildren.
I remember her very low tolerance for medicine and how she couldn't get up one Saturday. That scared me.
I remember how her hands shook, even before we knew she had Parkinson's disease.
I remember her being a bit sassy and even impertinent.
I remember her "adopting" Darryl, which our pastor needed.
I remember "sneaking" her out of the nursing home or apartment when I went back for visits, getting her out of the house. And letting my sister deal with it after I left- sorry Gretchen.
There are so many more...but mostly,
I remember she loved me.
Happy Birthday, Ma. I miss you.