Mama and Me, March 1976. She is 29, I am 15 months.
Thirty-two years have passed, but I'm certain she'd cradle me much like this if I asked. And I'm positive I still look at her this way.
Most of the time.
When she's not reading Twilight (that was Tuesday), New Moon (Wednesday), Eclipse (Thursday), and Breaking Dawn (started last night, will finish later today). I mean, I wanted her to read them. I've begged her for a year. But come on, already! She drove over six hours to visit us, and her nose has been buried in these books for three days now. (Meanwhile Dad's been camped out in Scott's office...computers, guitars, XM radio and all.)
Stephenie Meyer, I love you...but I want my Mama back. My girls want Mamaw Pinky to play with them. And if Mamaw Pinky thinks she's tagging along on girls' night out to see my beloved Jason Statham in "Death Wish," then she better get the lead out. After all, he is shirtless in this movie. 'Nuff said.
I love you, Mary Elizabeth Raley Roth. So much that one daughter is named Mary Elizabeth, while the other shares your maiden name as her middle. I've totally secured my position in Heaven because of this. Honoring my father and mother and all.
Get to the end, woman. I need my Mama back. Then we can discuss all of it while you entertain the girls. Good times.
Happy weekend, y'all!