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One of my very good childhood memories is Mom writing Granny (her Mom) letters and Mom also getting letters from Granny. Mom and Dad had moved us to Ohio for the better life that came then from factory work, so at the time we were far away from Granny back in Tennessee. The telephone was still expensive and unreliable way back then, and Granny's phone was also a party (shared) line for a while--so privacy wasn't assured on the phone, but it was in the mail. And so there was something very special about those letters, and those times, too, because people had to take time to reflect and write and mail, to wait and read and reflect. Putting hand to pen to paper meant something in those days, and that something is really not as strong as an "instant" email is now.
I'm sure those letters came in all seasons, but I recall them best when it was warm spring and summer. The mailbox was across the street, and I remember when I was old enough to get them and bring those letters to Mom. And to take hers to the mailbox to go to Granny. The letters were always fat with paper, as they both wrote many pages--but that makes sense, if you think about it: They surely wrote about everything, from their hopes to their set-backs, from relatives to kids, to maybe even songs they liked on the radio. I'll never know what was in the letters, but I remember how happy my Mom was to get them; the week of Mother's Day always had a special letter, I'm sure. I even remember, when we visited Granny during the summers, the stacks of letters from Mom that she had saved. They both saved them, as I recall, now considering it, as I think Mom kept them, too. I wonder where they all are now? Still saved?
Whatever the fate of those letters, the strong bond between my Mom and Granny still lives in my mother's heart and eyes. And in my and my siblings' hearts and lives, too. We are all what we are, in a large part, because of the relationship these two women had over decades--and a long period of that via letters and some summer visits.
Thanks, Mom, and thanks, too, to Granny. In the kids you raised, and in their kids, too, and in ways no one may even notice, but in ways so very, very important, those letters live on.
Happy Mother's Day to them, to my daughter and my wife who are both mothers, and to all mothers everywhere.