I often write about my father, but this time I want to write about my Momma.
Growing up, the basement was always cold. We had a wood stove on the upper floor of the house, but not on the lower floor. On winter days when we’d be down in the basement, we’d fire up the kerosene heater to keep things toasty.
When the snow would fall, my mother would pull out her quilting frame that would let her stretch out the quilt so that she could sew on it. I can remember playing underneath of it, watching her sew. This is how I first saw the movies “Dr. Zhivago” and “Gone with the Wind.”