Lessons from Mom weren’t formal lectures, but instead small moments repeated over time. They were found around kitchen tables, in stacks of books, among sewing projects, and through countless acts of generosity. Looking back, many of the values that guide me today were taught not through words, but through example.
The shelves filled slowly.
A season here.
A holiday there.
One year
stacked upon another.
Years archived
inside cupboards
and basement shelves.
Now,
when we gather
at Mom's
a little paint
still shimmers light,
and I remember
how she taught us
that ordinary evenings
were worth keeping.
Mom’s House
Growing up, I don’t remember Mom collecting things just for the sake of having them. Instead, shelves, closets, and cupboards overflowed with projects in various stages of progress.
A sewing closet held more than fabric. It held a blouse not yet started, a repair waiting for attention, or a gift destined for the right occasion. Rows of books did more than decorate a wall; they waited for the next person she hoped would read them. In her hands, yarn became hats for people she would never meet, and craft supplies transformed into projects for students, children, and grandchildren.
Even today, she views the world through the lens of possibility. She doesn’t just see what something is. She sees what it could become, and who might benefit from it.
Perhaps that’s why her house still feels so welcoming. It isn’t filled with possessions. It’s filled with yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
