A Special Day

Yesterday would have been my mother, Susie Latty Day’s, birthday and if she were here, I’d bake her favorite dessert–lemon pie. The lilac bush at her house in Tahlequah is blooming now and that’s fitting because she loved lilacs. In fact, when she was sixteen, her dear Aunt Ettie, Tettle, she called that aunt, gave her a huge bouquet of lilacs. Mom kept that bouquet even after the blossoms fell off. She put them in a pouch and they stayed with her for years, the lovely fragrance lingering.

In springtime, for some completely unreasonable reason, I look for Mom. It’s spring. Flowers are blooming. Birds are building nests. She should be here too. Maybe it’s because she enjoyed working among her flowers and maybe it’s because of her birthday that I associate her with springtime. Or maybe it is that I always felt she was young at heart.

Mom was the middle child of the Latty family and when she was young, she was full of mischief. She was fun and she loved to laugh. But to me, she was my best friend, my confidante. Even though she might not offer a word of advice, I was comforted just to sit and talk with her.

Having been born in the early part of the twentieth century and growing up on a farm, Mom’s childhood experiences were quite a bit different than those of children today. I was fortunate she told me about her childhood. I was able to put those stories in a couple of books, The Heritage of Etta Bend and Remembering Etta Bend.

I like using her pots and pans to cook with. Sometimes I almost feel her presence as I stir and bake or as I work in the yard among my flowers. It could be that I hunt for ways to feel close to her. I’ll confess that in the Darcy and Flora books, I envision Mom as I write about Flora.

Even though my mother is gone, I feel singularly blessed to be her child. Maybe the best tribute I can pay her is to remember the things she taught me and try to be a reflection of her love for her family in my own family’s lives.

The Child in the Middle by Blanche Day Manos

The child in the middle is somewhat a riddle–a little of that and of this;

Sometimes she’s thoughtful and sometimes a handful, this fun-loving, dreamy-eyed miss.

God made the flowers, the sunshine and showers and surely God must have smiled

When he fashioned this keen one, this come-in-between one, the lovable middle child.