Aunt Mary's Memoirs: VIII

Mother to me has always been the most wonderful person I ever knew. How can one describe anyone like that? In those days she had fair skin and rosy cheeks and her jet black hair fell in little ringlets around her neck as the strands escaped from the bone hairpins she used to hold the knot on the back of her her head. Occasionally she would allow me to comb her hair and curl the tendrils around my finger. Her eyes were hazel, neither brown nor green--wise and warm as she looked straight at you. She could be very firm, but always loving. More the once I felt the sting of the little switch on my legs as punishment of some naughtiness. Most often she did not need to punish as we never cared to go against her wishes. She was that kind of person.