In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”

Dear Mom,

You always wanted me to write. You believed that your children, the three of us, were the most talented, gifted, amazing people in the world. We know we’re just normal, ordinary people, but your confidence in our superhuman abilities did motivate me to mombirthdaydo my best at whatever I was attempting.

You had yearned to play the piano when you were younger, and somehow we usually had one in whatever placed we lived.  You saved the beginner books from Dad’s first year in college, when you took some lessons.  Those books and your encouragement helped me learn on my own, and while I’m not exactly  star quality, I’ve been able to play for church services for many years.

You taught me to embroider, starting on pillowcases and dresser scarves. You taught me to crochet, making potholders and simple doilies. Later, when I was about 14, you helped me make a skirt that I wore for years.  Today, those crafts have resulted in much more complicated versions including crewel embroidery, crochet of all types, closets full of clothing, and an intense interest in knitting, which you never learned.

You taught me to cook. You always said I took that skill way beyond what you could do.  I’m glad you lived long enough to know what my daughter, your granddaughter is capable of in the kitchen. She’s outstanding.  And, by the way, she makes the cinnamon rolls Grandma Millie made for her cafe.  That recipe has been in the family for four generations now.  Deb has tweaked it here and there, and her rolls are amazing.

Well, back to the writing.   You encouraged me as long as I can remember, even when my efforts were pretty child-like. You always  showed an interest, and you also encouraged my love of reading.  Any good writer has to love to read!

So finally, now that you’ve been gone for over two years, I’m gearing myself up to make a serious effort.  Blogging has been my ticket into the world of writing. The people here in the blogosphere are wonderful encouragers, and they’ve helped me stay determined to write something not only for the blog, but for real publication.

I don’t know if whatever I write will succeed.  Of course, I hope it does.  But the point is, this is a skill I’ve let sit on the back burner all my life while I attended to “more important” responsibilities. It’s time I  pulled it up to the front burner and got it boiling.

I wish you were here to read all my blog posts.  I think you’d especially like the ones about you and Dad and our family stories.  Maybe you can see them from heaven,  but I kind of think you have a different focus there.

Anyway, I wanted you to know that I’m writing, almost every single day.  For the most part, it’s well-received.  I’m starting.




10 thoughts on “Sincerely

  1. How touching and full of emotions your letter is. It is indeed so nice to know how your mom has taught you embroidery, cooking, sewing and encouraged you to write. You are one talented woman who can play piano with perfection 🙂


  2. I love this tribute! I also love your writing. You mom was right, you are a very talented writer and can accomplish great things. I would love to read anything you would publish. I find the two of us having so much in common and call you my sister in Christ. One of these days maybe I will actually take the needed steps to be more accomplished in my writing, especially since I have more time on my hands…
    God Bless You. I believe our mothers are great friends in Paradise. We lost them at about the same time.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. She was overseas in holiday with my dad when she had a heart attack,was very sudden and I was still living at home with my sister. I do miss her, but such is life, none of us are guaranteed another day, and that’s what I teach my children, don’t be afraid of losing anyone, just be thankful for the time that was granted. Sorry to hear about your mother’s mom. Sad for my father now, he is 66 next month and living alone and very lonely, I hardly see him now as he is in South Africa and we moved away.

        Liked by 1 person

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