The Unique View

I would rather be under a rock. Days like this are bitter sweet. Mother’s Day. Millions of deserving mothers of all fashions will be celebrated and appreciated. Flowers, cards, and trinkets. Hugs and kisses to last a lifetime. Laughter and stories of love, chastisement, and joy. December 11, 1979 my mother was called home to be with the Lord. I was 16 years old and months away from giving birth to my own child and now at the age of 52, I dread this day almost as much as I dread Christmas, considering the month itself. I pen this with a hole opened wide in my heart and the fire of tears threatening to fall. I absolutely want to scream, but I write instead. My mother was a beautiful woman standing about 5’7 with legs of a dancer. Jet black hair pressed and bumped at the ends with a slight touch of gray brushing her shoulders. Brown eyes that danced when she smiled. With gold covered teeth with a smile that lite up any room.   A laugh that was contagious. A stern look that said,...