San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1924-03-30
Thinking of Mother
BY KATHLEEN NORRIS

A spring day on the Mediterranean
Is as sweet a moment as ever comes
in the world. Fortunately, spring
comes everywhere, and is always sweet
certainly never more lovely than
when the brooks begin to run and
the willows turn green in Vermont, or
when the redwoods put on little blue
velvet tips in California, or when all
a sleepy southern town is arched in
FRESH green and scented by magnolias.
Spring is even lovely in city streets,
with hurdy -gurdies and new awnings
and new hats; when crocus blooms
in Madison Square, and little riffs OF
country sir 90 up and down the
dreamy town, like children lost in Van
ity Fair"
So that wherever it finds one,
it is apt 10 find one saying: Isn't
this perfectly lovely" And looking
down through pines and peppers and
palms 10 the satin-blue sea this morn
ing, that was what l said, and that
was what was half-wiStfully echoed
by the pretty young American woman
who was on the bench beside me; an
eager, graceful creature who came into
the hotel with a nice American hus-
band and n nice baby few days ago
and who will presently all three be
upon their way toward diplomatic
duties in the north of Europe.
Its my first trip abroad" she con-
fessed ingenuously, with her rrIenuIy
smile. And it all seems so wonder
full to me- We've been in Washington
/
And then the ship. That was just
delightful"
Travellers are usually critical. They
seem to feel it due TO their dignity
10 complain . good deal. 1 cvInpli-
mented my little neighbor upon her
po;nt-of-view, and in my heart l COM
plimented the man fortunate enough
TO have so appreciative, sensible,
adaptable a little wife.
Il was just wishing she said sud
denly, that my mother could share it
with me-"
You must write her about it,
"Ah, but l can't" she answered
with the glance that makes bond
between all of us daughters of good
mothers, wherever we meet, live
lost my mother, last year.
1T seems so strange" she went
on, that mother should die just as
things were coming out so beautifully
for us all. My brother has done so
well, and my younger sister has Just
married such fine man, and we think
my little brother is going TO be a
real genius.
Father died sixteen years ago,
when was only eleven" she said. Il
remember him, of course, but our
whole world was mother. We didn't
have any money, We lived in a little
cottage in very questionable part
of the town, and mother did every
thing. She cooked, and she managed
everything-year in and year out. l
see now that she was just a slave
10 us. Somehow we all took it for
granted, then.
"Oh, don't mean We didn't love
her. :" she said, shaking the tears out
of her smiling eyes. We always
adored her. But she trained us pref
" severely-she had TO, of Course !:
she was just desperately determined
that we should be fitted for life, that
we shouldn't feel ourselves at a dis
advantage. remember grumbling
and fussing, hating to practice on
an old square piano, hating busting
and table-setting, as all girls do
j was so afraid don't know how
10 express it exactly, but so afraid
L was missing something
IL know the feeling exactly" l as
sured her.
Mother was always so cheerful"
she said, her eyes far away. "All our
meals were so good, so hot. There
was what she used to call 'love-sea-
soning' in them. 1t used to make me
impatient TO see how interested she
always was in the kitchen-in any
little new dish, or if a nejghbor sent
us q box of apples or a chicken. /
can see my mother, flushed-she was
thin, and grey Of course-flushed from
the kitchen, looking into the dining
room. Pull the shades. Dicky Get
your table started, 'Lizabethi My.
what a glorious storm we're going to
have, Remember you've half an hour
finger-exerecises TO make up, Jean !"
Ny companion was thinking aloud