A Mother’s Day Memory

As our mothers get older, they do and say what they think and feel. They get braver. They don’t care who sees and hears. They have no inhibitions. I remember my mother asking me once upon a time when I dropped off my twelve-year-old son to spend the week with her: “Do you want me to tell him about the birds and the bees?” “Mama,” I said. “You haven’t told me yet. You need to tell me first, and then we’ll worry about him.”

lucillekathy2Mama and me

The memory I’ll share now is not about my mother. It’s about the mother of Joy Ross Davis, a writer from Bessemer, Alabama.

Joy’s story was published back in 2010 in Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal. For eight years, I was publisher/editor of this online journal. I published the works of 361 writers from 38 states and 10 different countries. I published emerging writers and established writers — Pushcart nominees and winners, journalists, college professors — and I was even asked by the publisher of the award winning Doug Marlette to include an excerpt from his second novel. (I still have the original, unedited copy of his submitted manuscript.)

This is a true story, a precious memory, an everlasting image, and I know you’ll get a smile and a laugh. So — read the old post with Joy’s story. And enjoy!

And happy Mother’s Day to you and yours!

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