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Reflections On a Birthday, Pt. II

Reflections On a Birthday, Pt. II

See the lovely lady at the top of this page?

That’s my mom. And on December 3rd it will be her birthday.

~*~

There is a strong possibility my mom is reading this with some consternation—she doesn’t like having any sort of a fuss made in her general vicinity, never mind about her. But here’s the thing: This is not a ‘fuss’. It’s a blog post (wink, wink).

(Mom, please bear with your favourite middle daughter. I did it for Dad’s birthday, so you had to suspect this was coming for you, too …)

~*~

Sometimes it boggles my mind how my mom, born thousands of miles away, eventually ended up in a small prairie town in southern Alberta, met my dad whose roots there were—are—deep. How her family made it, intact, through World War II, eventually coming to Canada and spending time in a few different places (even, for a time, near where I now live) before she came to live in Fort Macleod and to work at a local clothing store. The story goes, if I recall it correctly, Dad came in one day looking for a pair of boots. The rest, as the saying goes, is history.

~*~

Up until a few short years ago, Mom lived on the land she began her married life on, in the house her husband grew up in before eventually moving into the house we all knew best as home. She fed and clothed her family, kept a spotless—and gezellig—house, endured losses, gave thanks for the good times. She found contentment under the wide-open prairie skies.

And she, with my dad, through the highs and the lows, keeps moving forward as best they have long known to do.

She is not very sentimental. She is tough. She values family and time spent together. She is a woman of strong faith. She is not always very patient. She is loyal. She can be a bit of a goof. She loves her grandchildren (Shhhh, but each one is genuinely her favourite). She can be headstrong and gentle, sassy and serious. She’s not perfect. She perseveres. She has a great laugh. She is more than a label or a handful of characteristics or pieces of her history.

Today and always—always—she is my mom. And I love her.

Happy (almost) birthday, Momma. :)

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