Maya Angelou said, "To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow."
My mother was a turtle. She was introverted, the opposite of me, with little to say unless asked. When asked, she poked her head out of her shell and talked until your butt got sore sitting there listening to her. She never walked fast or rushed a thing in her life. Look at me. She waited until the very last day of the year to have me. I do know the turtle wins the race. She won my heart, respect, and forever love. She has been gone since 2002. I miss her more now near Mother's Day.
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