Tending our mothers’ gardens
I am writing this column on Mother’s Day weekend. As I weed flowerbeds, memories of my hardworking mothers and their gardens dance in my head. Gram Miller—Anna Estelle—grew up in the mountains of West Virginia, in a large family that was intimately acquainted with poverty. Growing food was necessary for survival. I remember her planting…
Our mothers’ wombs
Recently, I watched a young mother and her family seated nearby in an airport restaurant. The mother was calmly multi-tasking: feeding her son small bites of food, wiping her daughter’s face and carrying on a conversation with her husband. Just before the kids ran off to play at the toy structure, they raised their faces…
