Memories of Childhood

by Carol Ann Lindman Webb


Many memories of my childhood have dimmed over the years, but there are some of my mother which linger like the fragrance of an expensive perfume. I realize that my reality is not necessarily that of another, and that I see things through the glasses that I have chosen. And so it is with this in mind that I share some of things that are locked away in the increasingly far reaches of my mind.

I close my eyes and see a beautiful young woman with dark brown shoulder length hair. It is swept up off her face and lays in an abundance of soft wavy curls cascading gently to perfection. She is strikingly beautiful. Her mouth is well shaped with full lips that shine red with the latest shade of lipstick. Her eyes light up when she smiles. Her eyebrows are expressive and deliver a quick message of love, or, when needed, disapproval is manifested with the arching of one brow. Her skin is cream. Her teeth are straight, white and show freely with her smile.

She stands at the front of the chapel ready to lead the congregation in song. She is wearing a gold or burnt orange dress that has a pattern of black dots throughout. It is made of a soft silky material and drapes smoothly over her trim figure. She is wearing a black beaded broach on one shoulder with earrings that match. At times when the light is just right they sparkle just slightly, as if to testify of the light she hides within. She is mysterious, almost Regal in appearance.

Her voice is that of an Angel. When she sings, it is music from the heart and is a comfort to the soul. She reads music well and leads it with authority. I see her leading the congregation in The Spirit of God like a Fire is Burning and I hear the testimony she shares in her song......so does the rest of the congregation.

I am thinking she is the most beautiful woman in the church.....and that she will take me home very soon because she is my mother.

I close my eyes again and hear her reciting Little Orphan Annie and The Raggedy Man which she does from memory. They seemed real happenings to me, and I would shutter to think the Gobble-uns'at git you Ef you Don't Watch Out! I am three our four years old.

I see a house full of comings and goings. The kitchen smells and the people who shared our meals. I remember the many missionaries who blessed our home, though I can't see their faces now I know there is a book full of their pictures and thanks.

I remember wonderful trips to the Tabernacle for General Conference. Mom would let us purchase the box lunches the Relief Society would sell on the street corner. It would be such a treat...the sandwiches were usually made with white bread.

I remember singing together as a family. Mom's lovely voice would ring out and dad would harmonize. I am sure that is where I learned to hear and harmonize. A gift that has brought me pleasure throughout my life...one I have passed on to my own children.

How fortunate I am. My life has been blessed because my mother taught me so many things. Some directly some indirectly. She taught me to sew, to cook, to obey, although I have had a hard time with the latter. She taught me to love. Because of her fears she has shown me how to brake free and fly. She has encouraged me to be the best I can be. We have not always seen eye to eye on what that best might be, but during all my life she has loved me, sometimes in spite of myself. How blessed I am.

Thank you Mom.
I love you, Carol