Mary would call them something else but I'm protecting innocents here. Actually, there was another woman/child who desperately needed a Momma and Mary took her in until she could stand up and walk out. I don't recall any eye blinking in the decision either, she just did it. It needed doing.. Mary, Mother, Mary Momma. OK? Fine because we are getting close to the point. When I first met Mary, it was to aid her with a computer matter, She seemed happy that someone would take the time and for my part I was happy to help. A friend of a friend. The friend was a girl and Mary was a girl too and I just like girls. My hero; The legendary piano man Big Al Williams had a bell mounted on his instrument and was famous for ringing it then yelling, " Calling all girls! Lets have a high ball!" I like women that much if not more, so if a female needs a hand Texino is bound to respond favorably and fast. Well computers got fixed and Mary and I soon discovered that we both took reading and writing to a serious level and seemed to able appreciate each other in the comfortable manner that allows those of opposite sex but similar passions to fall in step and keep marching to that tune without messing with romance. So we wrote and we read what we had written and when we didn't have any thing to read we talked about life which for Mary centered on her job as Momma. When we met, Jim was grown and out and about. June was at home but close to college and Lilac and Lacy were just cute little girls in the elementary grades. Well as hard as Mary was at living her life and being a good wife and mother, she still maintained the Momma persona by going to the school house and assisting with this class or that one. We know she wanted to make sure things were getting done the correct way, and God knows how much momma she let loose to the masses. Perhaps God does know, but the numbers are beyond me. I know they were enough to put the yoke on Mary for she's a small gal. Small in stature maybe, but strong in her belief that while mothers get a break Momma is always there and aware. It seemed the girls were always in school. If there were vacations, Momma never took them and after years of reading the words of Mary's week, I began to notice Sunday. Yeah Sunday was the day when things seemed bad; the day when a costume needed sewing or a forgotten science project would surface and poster board, tempera paints and construction paper would meld along with the proper tables and rumble off just in time to make the grade. Also Sunday could bring on the symptoms of "Duck Fever" a 24 hour illness that followed the Mary family into 3 different homes. I always felt that Duck Fever resulted from someone missing a dose of Momma during the previous week and the lack of it would manifest during the the Sunday preschool countdown. If the disease was confirmed, then the victim would remain at home wrapped in a comforter known as The Duck and receive Momma Ju Ju for the balance of the day and be fine by morning. Duck Fever withstanding, I can't remember any of the kids from Jim though Lacy ever getting really sick and there is a pretty fair space of time covered. Yup, Sundays were tough on my pal, but in these 12 or so years, she never missed one. When you think about that, well its hard to think about. Because outside of being a Momma there were serious Mother and Wife things to deal with. People died, or went away mad; old wounds would open and close at will because too much self healing magic had been lent the Momma bank, and those debts always default at the worst time. I've watched my pal go through a month of Sundays 144 times and though she may have stalked each sabbath with a black cloud looking to find a crack in her even temper, it never happened or at least the word didn't reach us here at the know it all center. OK? Well it better be because, by my clock the youngest of the kids, the one left, baring a case of Duck Fever, will be stepping off to college monday morning. The Sundays? It might take a while to see they are just a day before monday, maybe a bit heavy with memory but that will level out over time. Kids grow and then they have to move around a little and sometimes they even go away, however; the children in this story wont do that; cant do it because Momma wouldn't allow no sorry-ass separation. It's a Southern thing you see, but it could happen anywhere.
Mary's kids are all good people. I know they love their Momma and their Poppa as well. Do they know how lucky they are to have been cared for in such a special way? And do they know how every fiber of their mother's heart and soul has stretched to hold them steady when things get bumpy? I hope so because, there is simply no better definition of true love, and I am happy to point it out.