You would have done the same.

You were devoted. To your children, all seven of them.

To your Lord, and Saviour, through them.

Indomitably, you were undaunted. By anything.

From your own mother, you learned precepts informing the godly woman, and applied them with every breath.

But, you also knew the value of living in real time.

From you, I learned that cooking was a revered art. To this day, my refrigerator’s contents, jammed fully with cheeses and smelling cremes, everything aging by the day, all fall out when the door is opened. This, I learned from you.

Unlike you, I am never up with the sun, nor am I fully dressed by the time I take the kitchen, least of all in shoes with any heel. But, not a moment passes during the beating of an egg for baking, nor the carving of a roast, nor the stirring of any sauce, do I not think of my own grandmother or you. Fingers, after all, were for piano second, and for tasting first.

I also learned that bathrooms were designed to be used, not dressed for company, and laundry was best kept in piles of clean and dirty, in its own room, thank you. These were the standards of a mother who applied herself to the family, first, forsaking no cherished energy to the keeping up of appearances. Yours was a substantive role, and you immersed yourself totally. Forgiven, and at deep peace, you had no compulsion to scrub away any sins, past or present.

Thank you for making all the h’or doerves for my wedding reception. For slicing every cucumber, paper thin; for dressing the pate with them. For sculpting the ice. For doing all this, sight unseen, the reward in the eating.

Yes. Like my own mother, you would have done the same. Had I been born of you, I am certain that you, too, would have named me Ruth. Like Ruth, you followed your husband, whithersoever he went and all the way Home.

Margaret Smart Sidey    1928 – 2018

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© 2/7/18   Ruth Ann Scanzillo.