My letter is to all children, young and old, with mothers.
We seem to put them on hold, till we need them.
We forget the nine months they carried us.
The first arms are hers, the very food, a bottle or breast, the changes we need, our first fall, the gentle touch.

When we asked for something she couldn't give, we thought her mean.
When the food was low, she would fall once more to her knees asking for help.
In bed, she would wait for the sound of our footsteps before closing her eyes.
As we get older, we move away, promising to keep in touch.
The days turn into weeks.
Before you know it, will be years.

Then you may get a call saying you are needed at home.
There is nothing more to be done.
You scream, you rant.
Who has the right to take her from you?
But she was there all the time we forgot.

So if you have a mother or father, please take the time to call or write, even if they are cranky.
Just remember the times she was for you.
Learn to give love while we can.
I know, I lost my mother 18 years ago.
There's not a day I don't remember her.
My Trip To D.C. For months, I had hope of being the best.
But fear also had it's part.
Would I be able to read before all of course I could do it.
My fingers did tremble my knees knock...
The words wouldn't slip between my lips.
I looked at all from every land.
So many smiling laces.
Everything a new experience.
My stomach had so many butterflies.
I wondered why I didn't float.
The stage lit up the names being called.
Not my name, but not to fret I will be back.
My greatest thrill, I won a color tv.