Today memories of my mother are flooding my mind. Our Irish heritage, her love of Irish music, the culture, its history - our visits to Ireland (just she and me) are lining up in my mind like pages on a book. I can't believe a year ago she was happily making our Irish dinner, setting her table with fine linen, silverware, good dishes and crystal. Everything sparkled like it always did for her.
She loved her kitchen. It was her domain. Everything had its place and she had her own routine, knowing exactly what needed to be done and when. I could sit and sip on coffee or tea (or something stronger, depending on the time of day - HA!) and talk to her as she scurried around with loving attention to detail. Even kitchen clean up was reserved only for her.
I know Mom is watching over me and wouldn't want me to grieve so. It's difficult not to. I believe in angels and know I have my own Irish Angel watching over me.
