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My mother’s way with words — The Weekly Special
I lost my mom three years ago. Though I have two older step-sisters (whom I love dearly), I am technically an only child of a mother who had me at a young age. Suffice it to say, we grew up together.
Mom was a child of the late 50s and early 60s. She was the consummate “good girl”. She was the middle child of three girls, so even when she did go out and cut loose a bit, no one seemed to notice. It wasn’t until she graduated and got married that she started to her hair down.
My mother and bio-daddy got married in November of 1967 and I came along in September of 1968. (Yes, I did the math. It’s legit.) However, they didn’t stay married long. I don’t have any real memories, but I think I was around four when we moved back home to Grandma and Grandpa’s house. And that’s when things went a bit wonky.
With a built-in babysitter, a.k.a. Grandma, my mother went a bit wild. Okay, that’s not exactly the truth. My mom cut loose and had as much fun as a woman in her 20s could in the early 1970s. Yeah, I probably saw a lot of stuff a little kid shouldn’t have seen, but I learned a lot of lessons along the way.
By the time I’d entered my teens, mom had been remarried and divorced again. Let’s just say hubby #2 wasn’t one of her finer moments. I met…
