As the youngest of my three sisters, I was often left feeling left out. Mom would have these great chats with my older sisters whenever they came home for the weekends, while during the week I was pretty much left to entertain myself. I did not have too many complaints about that. Dad and Mom would talk through mealtimes, and I was always there listening, but there wasn’t time for Mom to talk with just me.
It was after I found my trunk of writing stashed in the old attic at the farm that I realized I had one huge form of blessing that I had never even given any thought to.
It was when Mom and I went berry picking.
As a child, I actually did everything I could to avoid hearing those very words, but I seldom got away with it...
“Come on Lainie, let's go berry picking.”
I’d look at my Dad pleadingly, but he just shrugged his shoulders because he knew that this one was out of his hands.
Mom would dress me in long pants and Dad’s long-sleeved shirts on a scorching hot afternoon, to protect me from branches scratching my arms and mosquito bites.
Our border collie Shep, didn’t escape either. He faithfully led us down the trails. He knew all of Mom's special picking spots.
After we had picked half our quota, we stopped for the snack Mom brought along. We sat together on a huge stone at the far end of the clearing on our farm.
We talked as much as I wanted. I had her full attention.
This was our time, one-on-one. Away from the house, the cooking, the company, laundry, gardening, and the arrival of unexpected company.
Just Mom and I, talking.
She asked me about school, and what I’d like to be when I grew up. We talked about the mean boys who called me names all the time, or chased me! We talked about the Lord, and she patiently answered my questions. I was able to get it all out.
The best part of all came when I would ask her about her life as a young girl.
Then I always got her to tell me about how she met my Dad, their first date at the dance, and their very first kiss.
This was always very romantic to me and left me feeling that my parents were truly special.
I still can recall how the lines of her face vanished as she talked, and her eyes sparkled. My parents were still very much in love.
We had many of those wonderful hours of mother and daughter time.
The memories of Dad coming to meet us and carrying our pails to the house, with Shep trotting down the trail - eager to get back to his shady den, are still alive to me now, even after all these years.
Mom knew I would come back one day, and she had all my work and my earliest writings safely stored in a little trunk.
When we got home, I immediately changed out of all those heavy clothes. But I was eager to make tea and set the table while Mom washed the berries, soon to be served with sugar and cream for afternoon snack.
Mom would always brag to Dad about what a good berry picker I was, even though I ate almost as many as I picked.
For years after I left home, I never thought about those special times with Mom. She had passed away before I found my old journals, safely tucked in the corner of my room upstairs.
She knew I would come home one day and find them, and I did.
It was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow for me, because it made me realize that all of those simple blessings were mine, while berry-picking with my Mom.
Blessings Dear Readers, and thank you for taking the time to read this blog. I’m sure it will stir up some fond memories of your very own berry-picking times.
- Marlane.
Excerpted from the book "101 Blessings"
by Marlane Lillian Mazur.
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