I came from a family of talented writers. Mom sold many of her articles and had a book published when she was 69. It’s hard to believe our papa’s most common expression was, “Children are born to be seen, not heard.” Home Is Where Mom Is By Gay Wiggin Comboy My first journey away from home was at the age of 11. It had been a long, hot summer which I had spent helping my oldest sister Lela with her new baby. I didn’t know how homesick I was until they brought me home. I stood with suitcase in hand at the gate of the white picket fence that surrounded our house. An excitement mounted inside me. I wanted to run up the sidewalk, jump up the step onto the front porch, open the door and holler “Mama!” Instead, I walked slowly so I wouldn’t miss any of the sights of home. The green birdbath still sat beside my climbing tree; a wasp buzzed around the large tree with our tire swing; the metal chairs and swing were on the porch for evening sitting.
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Opinion, Pages 7 on 11/03/2010
Print Headline: Home Is Where Mom Is