I was seven years old when my mother nearly burned down our house. My brother, sister and I were watching TV in the den while Mom was getting dinner ready. She poured oil into a heavy cast iron pan and set the pan on an open flame to heat.
My mother taught me to knit.
Back then, knitting was a necessity, not some artisan craft like it is today. She would get patterns from Women’s magazines and cheap wool from the market. She knitted my clothes – sweaters, cardigans, even skirts. I was the eldest. As soon as I could hold a pair of needles, I was knitting booties for my baby brother and sister.
Just 4 days left to enter for cash prizes and publication!
This touching, thought-provoking article describes the evolution of a Mother from a teen mum to a mum of teens and how her desperate cry for freedom was extinguished by the love of her children.
Emma knew there were 11 children in the cemetery. She had counted. She needed to know she wasn’t alone in her suffering. Sometimes she wondered what their stories were, how their families were coping. She never saw anyone at their graves. Did nobody love them anymore? Were they lonely? Occasionally a toy would appear, leaning against a headstone, but she seemed to be the only parent who visited her child regularly. Would she ever stop coming?
If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably been wondering ‘who is this lady?’ and ‘what’s her deal?’ Most of my posts have been about other people and other things with a few little anecdotal tidbits thrown in for personal relevance and an attempt to ‘relate’ to you, my audience. Sure, there have…
Today marks the one week anniversary of our Mum Life Stories blog! Yipee, happy anniversary to us. We are happy to say that this week we reached 350 views, received our first contribution from a writer, who was the winner of the first hashtag competition and we got connected to many different people through Facebook,…