I suppose she was about twenty five when this picture was taken. Young, full of life, and dreaming about what the future held for her. Two years later she married my father shortly after he returned from the war in Europe.

It was a miracle, really, that they got married. He had been a gunner in a Sherman tank during the war. Those were the ones nicknamed Ransom Lighters, after a cigarette lighter that was well known at the time. They were known to light up on the first strike. He was one of the lucky ones that made it home.

Seven years after they married she had me. I was the third son and last child she had.

I credit my agility and ability to climb trees to her. It was a gift I was grateful for. By the time I was five I could out run her, jump off the back porch and fly up the gigantic mimosa tree in our backyard.

Oftentimes I would sit up there amongst the butterflies and humming birds until she calmed down.

She’s been gone over twenty years now. She was a library of wisdom from the past. - Her memory of people, places and events was astounding. If I had any questions she had the answers. I caught myself going to the phone to call her about one thing or another several times after she had gone. Life’s funny like that.

She would be 102 today. When I was a kid that would have sounded ancient. Not so much anymore.

I’ve heard it said that as long as you remember someone they are not really gone. Perhaps that’s the way it is today. She lives on in my memories.

Happy birthday, Mother.

Are there trees in heaven?

_______________
Rick Algood
March 4, 2020