Ramblings from My Attic #117
She turned 80 this week, my MillyMom. Not that she looks it. Once a blue-eyed belle of the ball, a Chevy Chase debutante, she long ago shunned fancy make-up and hair-dos, and now her pixyish sandybrownsilver hair suits her just fine, thank you very much. I want to be her when I grow up.
My mom did not have a mother-in-law for me to model a relationship on, for better or worse; and she died seven months after I married Allen. Milly has been there for me 22 years and counting; her delicate hand with its long artistic fingers holding or being held by mine; reminding me viscerally and spiritually of my own mother.
We have had missteps and meltdowns; our temperaments too alike to avoid it. And I think that is one of the reasons we’ve gotten so close. Like the marriage that brought Milly into my life, our relationship has met and bested challenges; morphed around my daughters’ ages and stages; and grown ever stronger because of honesty and humor.
I have so much to thank her for: for creating the whole wonderful, wacky, brilliant and humble Huffman clan with my dear father-in-law Richard; for always welcoming me with open arms and a soul warming smile; for engendering our extended families with such strong roots and loyalties; for propping me up when I need it; for reality checks when I need them; for the locket that frames my parent’s pictures close to my heart; for the camping cook stove which has got to rank up there as one of the most unique and best birthday gifts ever; for always listening and never being heavy-handed with me or my kids; for always saying “I think” instead of “you should;” for supporting my writing; for speaking the truth; for trusting me; for always having a new puzzle to work on; for letting me do the dishes; for sharing recipes; for loving me.
I never imagined that a daughter-in-law and mother-in-law could understand each other so well.
Happy Birthday, MillyMom!
I love you.