The rain and wind are raising havoc with the flowers in the hanging basket. At first I was going to set it on the deck, but decided to let it swing and sway so it gets stronger. Sheltering makes everything weak and helpless.
Last evening's potluck was very nice. The crowd was smaller than usual due to the holiday where mothers are taken out to dinner in fancy restaurants. There was the perfect assortment of hot dishes, salads and desserts and wine, of course. We took scalloped corn. We sent what was left home with another couple. He loves scalloped corn, and ours reminded him of the way his mother used to make it.
My readers have most likely noticed the way I use metaphors in my writing. That's the business of using something symbolic of something else. Like today's rain. To me, the rain represents the uncountable tears shed by mothers during their lifetime. Some may see rain on Mother's Day as a bad thing, but not me. I think it's very symbolic of the sadness and heartache every mother suffers. My prayer is that the joyful times outweigh the tearful ones.
My mother was not one to cry. I can't ever remember seeing her shed a tear. My thought is that she did it when she was alone. She would talk to me about her not crying, but I never believed that was the whole story. When she had me, she produced a cry baby. While I was growing up, mom would tell me I'm just like my paternal grandmother. She would be laughing one minute and crying the next. To this day, tears fall easily for me, but that's good. I think tears wash out the sorrows that lay in the cracks of our hearts. Hearts never mend, they just keep on beating.
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