About my mother, here in my life...

From where I sit, I can see my tree, big and colorful.
From here I can smell the pine.
From here, from where I sit at my desk in it's Christmas tree induced relocation to the den, on this soft and subtle morning, it's Christmas.

My mother sometimes sends me little letters about my blog.
She encourages me to write a book.
I have.
She didn't like it.   (nor did I)
So...

Recently in a note from my mom, in regard to one of my blogs about my life and actually about my death, titled Obits and Other Nonsense, she asked me what might be said about her and about her life.
This morning, from where I sit, looking at my very, very large tree, with my large dog beneath it, after having driven my own precious daughter to school, a simple thing I do daily but something I treasure more then I can express, while I sit here sipping coffee afterward, I realize that everything I write, most things I do, a lot of what I feel and much of who I am is directly related to my mother and the life she lives.
Like the Beatle's song, She's Here, There and Everywhere; in all my days, in all my moments, in all my accomplishments and in my errors, my trials and tribulations, my choices, my misgivings, my laughter, my cooking, my skin, my breath, my children, in my shoes, but not in my sewing (she makes beautiful quilts - I can no longer thread a needle).    Bits and pieces of my mother's life exist in every word I write.

We tenants of the womb never truly vacate our beloved landlord.

I hope you know Mommy, in my life, I love you more...