Each night one of the five of us would be appointed to set the dinner table. My dad would arrive home around 5:30 and every single night a delicious meal would be ready right as he walked through the door. This scenario took place night after night after night. Even on a regular old school night mom was so particular about how the table was set, where the knife was placed, what side of the plate the fork was on, oh my gosh it drove me crazy. Who cares.
After dinner my mom, who was a nurse during the day would retire into the dining room where she would spend the evening laying out a pattern, cutting it slowly, meticulously, sewing each part together. I would watch her rip it apart if it didn’t line up perfectly. Oh my gosh, it drove me crazy. Who cares.
In the summer she would go outside after each dinner and water her flowers. She planted the same flowers every single year. Red Geraniums. She would buy them each year at the flower store up the street. Always...