This is the only photo I have of my mother looking directly into my face. It's summer 1955 so I am about six months old. My handsome father, in his horn-rimmed glasses, is holding me, and my older brother, age three, is acting goofy for the camera. This was taken on the porch of my grandparent's house in Memphis. Their pride and joy, a new house.
I don't remember ever turning the photograph over and reading, in my mother's handwriting: "All of us 1955." As it turned out, there would be two more children added to "all of us." But for the moment, in the summer of '55, she probably was happy and grateful to have two healthy children.
Even all these years later, I feel loved to see my mother gazing at me. And I miss her love.
I take a minute out of my day to look into the faces of my children.
- the one-minute mother
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