And then there are the Momma-isms; the old expressions she used.
Now that I am older, I find myself using similar expressions she used.
I giggle to myself…did I really just say that?
I remember Momma's stories of her growing up in the depression and how people couldn't afford new shoes. As holes formed in the soles, they would cut a piece of cardboard and insert it inside the shoes. Then there is the time she was heading to an event in Manhattan. As she was crossing the street, carrying a box full of china dishes, she was hit by a Taxi cab.
The way she told the story made it seem as if she just bruised her knee. That was tough Momma.
The best story was how she met my Dad. Introduced to him by her sister's boyfriend. Serving in the war together, he told my Dad that he had a nice gal that he wanted him to meet when they went back home. Well, Dad thought she was a nice gal too. Marriage and nine children later, the rest was history! Now that I am older, I yearn to hear more of those types of stories. I often tell friends who are still fortunate to have their parents; treasure the moments. Treasure the moments.