My Mother passed away this week.

[Teacher of the Year]

35. Moms. Damn. I'm sorry Jackcrow.

If it snowed overnight, mine would make breakfast, then go outside, get a handful of snow and squeeze it and squeeze it until her little hands were ice cold. Then she'd sneak in my room and put them on my back.

Then she'd smile ever so sweetly and say, "Breakfast is ready."

A few months later, in the spring, she would walk around the back of the house to find a small green hose coiled up like a snake. My mom had nerves of steel (Navy Airman) and laughed at things that would terrify mortal humans (bungie jumping off a Chinese bridge at ate 75), but she was scared ti death of snakes. Or hoses that looked like snakes.

I was evily cackling in the kitchen, listening to her scream, when the door flew open and she caught me and knew I did it on purpose.

You are going to miss your mom, friend. My only suggestion is when you start to feel blue, think of a time that can only bring a smile to your face. You don't have to wallow in the end, you can relive all the good parts with some effort. Hugs to you.