安妮·卡特/Anne Carter
Today, as promised, Mother, we're going to spend some quality time together.
I awoke at 5：45 A.M.as you had done for so many years. I put on your tattered bathrobe that I thought I had discarded. I was pleased I hand't, because your favorite scent, Tabs, still permeates its fibers. I stuffed my feet into your slippers and was glad that they were open in the front to accommodate my longer toes. Now, we're together again. At least it feels that way to me.
It's been a very long year, Mom, and I miss you so much. But I'm doing okay. Well, I'm trying, and you always told me that's what counts.
I know you enjoyed an early breakfast, and I've got all your favorites. Most of the world drinks coffee or tea in the morning. You drank soda:“Coke-a-Cola.”as you called it. You told me it was a Southern custom. I never believed that for a moment, even though you were born and raised in Virginia. I think you needed a sugar high to start the day. It was a tough choice, but I decided on the peanut butter crackers for the main course-handmade, not the packaged ones, spread one at a time straight form the jar and pressed together like an Oreo cookie.
The birds have started to sing outside, and the sun is announcing the beginning of another new day. Right about now, you would have turned on your radio and tuned into your favorite radio station. Here goes!……Guess what?They're playing one of your favorite songs.“Thad Old Black Magic.”
Peanut butter isn't all that bad in the morning!Do you remember when you used to feed my German shepherd peanut butter crackers?How she loved you for that!The peanut butter would get stuck to the roof of her mouth and made her look like she was smiling. You always had such a way with animals.
That brings to mind the time my beloved parakeet, Buckeye Bird, flew into the frying pan while you were cooking breakfast. I wasn't supposed to let him out of his cage, but I had, and he burned his feet. I thought you'd be so mad at me.but all you could think about was getting medical attention for that poor bird. The pharmacist thought you were nuts when you asked what brand of antibiotic cream he would recommend to rub on a parakeet's feet.