Almost every afternoon since I can remember, she made a point of setting the timer on the kitchen stove and taking a nap for 20 minutes.
A mother of five, stealing some time for herself to rejuvenate, between her piles of ironing, making pie-crusts, canning peaches and putting a wholesome dinner on the table, every night of the week.
She was the epitome of mindfulness, way before it was ever a common word in our culture. Before we all grew so busy with double income households, in order to pay for life's necessities, and before smartphones took over our lives.
She passed away already 3 weeks ago but I found her again several days ago, in my heart.
This is where she has moved to, where I can still touch her now and hold her. Where I can take her with me anywhere.
Where I can call on her for strength.
