Smile

My mother worked in a fish market when I was a teenager. Actually, she worked many a "odd" jobs, trying to make ends meet. We lived in a housing project, were recipients of government assistance, and got second (or more) hand clothes long before is was cool to be retro or the even cooler, vintage.

Ends never met.

Still, she loved working in the fish market because she got to meet and talk to people. Most of the neighborhood poured through that market at one point or another and she was in her element. Smiling, talking, doing her thing. She even became quite adept at catching, conking, skinning, and gutting, the live catfish that were the market's big draw.

The job didn't last long because none of them did for a plethora of reasons. But, what I have taken away from those fish market days (besides the vivid memory of the first time seeing her kill her first catfish) is the smile she wore. While not an easy time by any stretch of the imagination, my mother took pride in doing what she could to provide for my brothers and me and she loved people. She could (and would) talk to anybody.

Tomorrow is my mother's birthday, she would have been seventy-three. I found this song among her possessions but didn't listen to it until today. I know she is smiling.

Happy Birthday Mom.

♥ ♥ ♥