What's Mom Like

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Ryan:

I was just tucking Erin into bed, when Jason came in. By the look on his face, I could tell Jason wanted to ask about his mother again. Jason had been told a hundred times the same stuff, but I guessed that he kept hoping to learn more than he's heard.

"What is it, Jay?" I asked my twelve year old.

"Will you tell me about mom? Please."

"Well, she was very pretty," I began as we headed to his bedroom. "And she was very shy. Almost like she was afraid of something."

"Did she ever say what she was afraid of?"

"No. She didn't," I said. This conversion always plays out the same way.

"What did she look like?"

"Your mother had deep brown eyes that seemed to say, 'Mother knows best,' as if she'd been a mother before. She had beautiful curly brown hair."

"What about her skin? How fair?"

"Her skin was as fair as the snow. She was kind and gentle, but there was also a great temper beneath the calm surface."

"Thanks, dad. I know I ask this a lot, but I have no connection to her except your words."

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