This is something that is hard to write about but sometimes you have to write about hard things. I owe it to my mom to talk about her and the influence she had on me as a little girl and as an adult.
From the time I was a little girl she encouraged me to read and I read a lot when I was a kid. I was that geeky kid in the library and not the playground when in junior high. Why the library? Because that’s where the books were. My mom’s house is as full of books as mine is, stacks of them in the corners of the rooms, stacked two deep on the bookshelves.
Mom loved it that I became a writer although I think she would have rather I write about murder and mystery than sex. Thrillers were what she loved to read, not love stories. But even though they weren’t her cup of coffee she always loved getting copies of my books and I’d sign them all for her.
Now I’m going to have to collect those books again. You see my mother died almost three weeks ago and my sisters and I are going to have to pack up her house, clear her closets and her bookshelves. It’s going to be a hard job, but as I said before, sometimes you have to do hard things.
Maybe I’ll give the books to one of my sisters, the autographed copies I gave my mom. After all, they love to read too and why wouldn’t they?
We had the same mother.