Dear Sis,

I thought of you today. Happy Mother’s Day. And not just because you’re a mom. But because of what a mom you were to me. You know, for all those early years.

My brother, sister, and me. Early 1970’s.

Remember the year you made me a birthday cake, with jam for the frosting, because that was the best thing we had.

How you protected me when that girl at school made fun of me for looking poor. You made me feel like a million bucks.

You introduced me to Richie Rich, Uncle Scrooge, Archie, Casper, and Emily Post. And to a world beyond our life in the woods – at the library, where books became my everything and magazines like Vogue, Bazaar, and Seventeen became my inspiration. Because you showed them all to me.

Remember the hover craft that you saved up for? The one we thought you’d drive? That turned out to be as big as the palm of your hand and that eventually got so tangled up in your hair that it had to be cut out? And the sea monkey family? Remember them?

You were like my giving tree.

And then one day, you grew up and moved away.

And I was sad.

“Come and play with me!”, I’d write. But you were too far away.

So I’d go to the spring and think about you. About the day you and Ky ran into the bear there and how you and the bear both turned and ran away in fear. I’d think about the old days when we were all together. You, me and Ky.

And I was happy.

I thought about you today, Sis. About what an impact your mothering had on me. I’m not sure where I’d be, had you not been there for me.

My giving tree.