Every time I iron anything, I think of Mom.
And tonight was no different as I was ironing Zach’s dress shirt for his school band concert tomorrow night.
My thoughts drifted to memories of my childhood of how she would iron our tablecloths, any and all clothes that were wrinkled in any sort of way, and I think I even remember her at one point ironing our bed sheets? (I’m not 100% sure about that one.)
I then realized where I was standing…and my thoughts drifted to how she used to stand exactly where I was tonight, when she would come to our home and gladly do our ironing. Many times when we would just spend time together here, having coffee, sharing conversation, enjoying our mom-daughter time, she would often ask, “Can I do any ironing for you?” or “Do you have any ironing for me to do?”
Tears filled my eyes, as a smile crossed my face thinking of those memories.
Mom found ironing clothes enjoyable. I do not. She could iron three shirts in the time I would finish one. She did the best she could to teach me, and I try to emulate how she used to do it. But it’s still not the same. But I guess Mom taught me also how important ironing is, and instilled in me a pride of having my family look polished in an ironed shirt, pants, etc. I thank her for that.
As I put the final touches on ironing Zach’s dress shirt tonight, I hung it on the hanger, buttoned the top button (just like Mom used to), and held it up to inspect my work.
My thought…”Mom would be proud of how this shirt looks. And she would be even prouder to see Zach wearing it tomorrow night at his concert.”
Oh how I miss her.
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