This morning Hillary, our youngest, had to get up early (4:00a) to perform, with her chamber singers, on TV. I, being the good dad, got up with her. It reminded me of the mornings my brother and I would deliver The Fresno Bee. My mother got up with us, helped us fold and pack the papers.
She would get up in the middle of the night if we were sick and throwing up. She would pick us up from football games and concerts. When I was 18, I had to wake up early for a trip to Mexico. Because I was driving by myself, she woke up to send me off with coffee and a prayer. I will never forget that prayer. The words are gone but the assurance of love and connectedness are still here 31 years later.
I owe her a phone call and a word of thanks and love. She is 79.
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