My Mother’s Daughter

I’ve always gotten a chuckle about my mother’s daily trips to 7-11.  Not that she goes of course, because if I’m lucky she’ll pick me up a Slurpee.  But I laugh about how she’s there religiously.  So religiously, in fact, that they know her at each of the local 7-11s within a ten mile radius of our house in Annapolis.

So yesterday, when I walked up to the local Co-Op to pick up a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread, I couldn’t help but smile when the woman stocking behind the counter raised her head when she heard my voice and said, “Oh!  How are you tonight?”  And she and I chatted for a few minutes because I hadn’t seen her much since I’d gotten back from my trip to the states.  Before that she’d gone on her honeymoon in Wales, which she said was fabulous.

On the walk home, I smiled when I realized that even with an ocean between us, I’m still my mother’s daughter.


3 thoughts on “My Mother’s Daughter

  1. Isn’t it funny how we can easily see our mother in ourselves? Probably more so with age, I’m sorry to say. Do you think our daughters will do the same? Will it bring them the same chuckle?

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