|How was she able do it?|
I don’t know how she did it. This past weekend I was reminiscing what all my mother did “above and beyond” to be my mother.
“Mothering with the extra touches,” I’m sure it still happens in many homes, but it seemed back then that it was just the way that families functioned.
For some reason, I recalled the sound of the old peddle pumping away on the Singer sewing machine in the kitchen, often late at night or even early into the morning. When the aroma of bacon beckoned me down the stairway from my comfort-snuggled bed, there would often be a brand new shirt hanging across the chair by the end of the kitchen table.
“Here,” she would say. “Try this on. If it fits you can wear it to school today.”