My mom was raised by her grandmother. Her Grandma Aniceta was born in the mid-nineteenth century. To put this in perspective, my mom was raised by a woman who lived most of her life in the Victorian Era. Mom was nearly 40 when she gave birth to her only child in the mid-twentieth century.
I miss her greatly. Only children and older parents can have very special bonds.
Most of my friends who knew my mother would describe her as “sweet”. Well, was that but, she could also be harsh, loving, smart, witty, clever, mischievous, and an amalgam of so much from two different centuries.
Here she is with her younger cousin. A preteen bereft of a mother to guide her. Luckily she was surrounded by loving aunts and uncles. She lived in the home – without the bow.
And on the beach at Catalina. A single woman in her post-WWII bathing suit, comfortable in her 30s and her spinster status. Five years from becoming a mom.