I had a good cry the other day. Bruce over at Fallen From Grace replied to a comment I made and we traded stories about missing our mothers. My mother did such a good job raising me. She was special in so very many ways. I never thought I was pretty. I was a tomboy to the core. Had freckles all over my face where I’d played in the sun all summer long. I hated them because the other kids picked on me at school, calling me “freckle face”. When I said that she always, always retorted, “A girl without freckles is like a night without stars”. She always thought all of her children were beautiful, even when we had jiffy store feet and mud on our faces. She made me feel pretty creative, pretty amazing, pretty intelligent. It took me 30 some-odd years and some help from the Tour Guide to finally get that message. That I am all these things just the way I am. I still get a face full of freckles when I spend the summer in the sun. Now when I see them in the mirror I see the beauty in them no matter what others see. I loved her and I miss her. I hope when I have children I make them feel pretty spectacular.