My mom. She lost her father when she was four years old and for the next fifteen years she lived in her village on the border of Greece and Albania. When things got serious during the war, her mother decided they should escape from their village into GREECE by climbing the mountains that divided the two countries. Due to circumstances, my mom had to make that journey by herself, in the dead of night, risking being shot, and leaving everything she owned behind. What courage she had. As my mom, She was funny, kind, could not tell a joke, made us laugh, knew a hit song on the radio when she heard one, never learned to swim or ride a bike, cooked all of our meals, sewed our clothes, loved us. She could crochet and knit anything. Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a scrambled egg tasted better when she made it. I miss her everyday but as a dear friend once said to me, “The conversation continues.” Happy Mother’s Day. - Rita writes.
My mom. She lost her father when she was four years old and for the next fifteen years she lived in her village on the border of Greece and Albania. When things got serious during the war, her mother decided they should escape from their village into GREECE by climbing the mountains that divided the two countries. Due to circumstances, my mom had to make that journey by herself, in the dead of night, risking being shot, and leaving everything she owned behind. What courage she had. As my mom, She was funny, kind, could not tell a joke, made us laugh, knew a hit song on the radio when she heard one, never learned to swim or ride a bike, cooked all of our meals, sewed our clothes, loved us. She could crochet and knit anything. Even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a scrambled egg tasted better when she made it. I miss her everyday but as a dear friend once said to me, “The conversation continues.” Happy Mother’s Day. - Rita writes.