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May memories mean a lot to me

We have a tendency to relate months of the year with special or sad memories. Birthdays, anniversaries and deaths make indelible marks on months for all of us.

May has a lot of special, celebratory marks for most people. The April showers do bring May flowers, and that makes me very happy! The extreme heat and humidity of our South aren’t totally cranked up, and the flowers take advantage of it.  

My own flowers that I plant and stoke Miracle-Gro to begin to “flaunt their wares” and spread their beauty during the spring growing season of May. The roses are temporarily free of the humidity-induced diseases, and the deer aren’t hungry enough to invade our back yard.

I tend to associate May with awards days, graduations and clean-out-desks-and-lockers month. It meant the light at the end of the tunnel for me when I taught school, and as a student, it meant summer paradise was next.

May continues to be birthday month for our family. Shields and Patton, two beautiful young “flowers” in our family garden, celebrate May birthdays. It’s birthday cake and ice cream month for the Andings.

Mother’s Day falls in the month of May and continues to make that month special. There have been times that I’ve felt like the memorial date tries to press us into a commercial mode, but there’s no denying that mothers need a special recognition day.

It was during my childhood, but I still remember the excitement of Daddy carrying us to Van-Atkins Department store in New Albany to buy Mother a gift for the big day. I always went to the jewelry counter and picked out a new pair of earrings — blue ones — her favorite color.

That was long ago. I still miss Mother and think of her several times a day. Little did I realize what an impression she was making in my life. I press blouses the way she taught me. I add extra butter to recipes like she taught me. I love jonquils the way she loved them. I remind myself to write thank-you notes the way she did. I enjoy family members singing like she did. I appreciate the stage like she did. I pray for VBS like she did. I teach Sunday School like she did. I soothe little grandchildren’s boo-boos like she did. I try to make apple pies like she did, and I try to love my family like she did.

Letters to Camille Anding can be sent to P.O. Box 551, Brookhaven, MS, 39602, or e-mailed to camille@datalane.net.