Monday Memories

The true harvest of my life is intangible - a little star dust caught, a portion of the rainbow I have clutched

Henry David Thoreau

It is our memories that are our memorial. Today, I was writing about the summer harvest and how our ancestors made corn dollies to celebrate the harvest and then would burn them in a fire to signal the end of the green era and preparation for the coming of fall and then the promise of spring.

As I wrote a flood of memories came to me about my life and the events that have unfolded over time. I remembered Mother.

Mother told me that when she was a very small girl, she had one store-bought doll with a china head. It was her prize possession. Some brothers were rough housing and one either accidentally or on purpose smashed her doll. The only dollies she had from then on were corn dollies that her father would make for her.

Mother always remembered that china doll with sadness. I guess that is why every Christmas when she got older we would always buy her toys. There were tons of stuffed toys from bears to bunnies to chickens. Glenna started to buy Mother dolls and her collection grew. Each little china face would make Mother smile. The smile always had the tinge of a sad memory.

Now for me when I see or hear the word corn dolly, I remember Mother and her only china doll that was priceless to a little girl in the backwoods of Flat Top, West Virginia.

To learn the rest of the story read Life with Mother; a Journey of Love, Death and Rebirth at http://lifewithmother.com Available soft bound or in ebook format.