Almost Movornin
My mother loved to tell stories about us back when we were a family, before my father died. When we moved "back" here to Lakeland (where she had lived with my father's parents after they were married, while he was overseas, and where they lived together after he chose a different career path), I looked forward to driving around, hearing her adventures and memories, seeing places I remember her talking about when I was a child, and thinking about my own memories of visiting my grandparents here during Christmas and summer breaks. I didn't care how many times I heard the stories... they always meant so much because you could feel the excitement and love she had for my father with her every word. One of her favorite stories to tell me was about how my sister and I came to be named what we are. My mother was a Margaret. Generations of Margarets. Aunts named Margaret. The oldest daughter being named after the mother. My mom went by her middle name (where my sister got her ...
