Remembering My Mother

It is funny how a persons life changes through out the years. Sometimes we make the changes ourselves and some are made for us. When I was 4 years old my mother died at the age of 29. Now although I don't remember it, it has changed every day in my life. I think about my mother a lot, and when I do, I miss her. I only have a few memories, but I hang on to those with all my heart. My mother had rheumatic fever and was told not to get pregnant that she may lose her life and mine. But she ignored her doctors and here I am today. She wasn't allowed to do very much so we had a housekeeper. She spent all the time she had with me. I assume that has molded my personality and helped make me the person that I am today. I was told that my mother had a good sense of humor, loved to tell jokes and spend time with her family. There was a small room upstairs in our house and as far as I can remember the only thing in this room was a small record player and children's records that at that time were bright yellows and reds. We danced in that room. She held my hands and we danced and danced and danced. I also remember her teaching me how to tie my shoes. Although the memories are few, I look at the picture of her and I sitting at our kitchen table eating watermelon and I smile. I have no shirt on and the juice is dripping down my chest but we are smiling and enjoying all the time we have left together.