Therese Kennedy

Berwyn

Walking from the school bus stop, I often thought of the sugary cinnamon-and-butter toast my mom, Katherine Bonnell, would have waiting for me on a dainty flowered dish with a glass of milk next to it. Most afternoons, still dressed in my Catholic school plaid skirt and starched white shirt, I sat beside Mom at the kitchen table. She always asked, "How was your day?" and out would tumble my tales of bullies on the bus and my latest test scores. These days when the clock turns 3:25, I click off my computer, leave my desk, and open the front door to watch my boys, 8 and 10, come off the bus. I fix a snack and we talk before they rush off to do their homework and play. It is the best part of my day.

Thanks, Mom, for the memories my boys and I will never forget.

Lisa Samalonis

Sicklerville

As long as I can remember my mom, Wilma Carter, has always been the nurturing, caring mother of the Carter family. One special memory takes me all the way back to the tender, pre-teen age of 11. (I am now 26.) It was Easter Sunday and, as always, Mom and I were up early, headed to morning service. This Easter was particularly special, however, because my mom had gotten matching outfits specially made for us. In our matching salmon pink suits, white sequin tops, and white shoes, we were a hit! I will never forget how special that day was and how proud I was to be her daughter on that Easter Sunday.

Andrea N. Carter

Philadelphia

My mother, Martha Hemberger, passed away 10 years ago. She was an incredibly warm person who was loved by many. My mother had one very special characteristic that I hope I will inherit. As my siblings and I grew up, she never put down anybody that we dated. Once we were married, she never interfered in any of our relationships, and as we had our children, she never told us how to raise them. Our spouses always loved and respected her because she choose to respect them. But above all, she was always there if we needed her. She is sadly missed.

Barbara Clark

Narberth

My mom, Deborah Otter, has made it a practice throughout her life to consistently see the best in people, in spite of warts and weaknesses and all. A seasoned vet at finding diamonds in the rough, she has a way of speaking life to dormant potential, causing it to spring forth (love has a way of doing just that). The essence of a mother is one who cultivates and nurtures the passion, talent and destiny within, firmly holding your hand, until one day your wings are ready to soar. If there is anything that I could do to thank my mom for all she has been to me and still is, it would be to carry on her legacy, to make it a practice of finding the gold in people, bringing out the beauty, and causing it to shine. Happy Mother's Day, Mom. I love you.

Christen Otter

Cape May

My mother, Eva Radnai Freimark, was in the audience whenever I danced ballet on stage. Searching the auditorium, I would first find her blond hair and then see her, smiling and pointing me out to anyone who would listen. "That's my daughter," she exclaimed. My mother was always there for me. When I was a senior in college, she died, leaving a void I've never been able to fill until my children were born. Now when my daughter dances on stage, I think of my mother. I know she's here with me, smiling and saying to anyone who will listen, "That's my granddaughter."

Susan Freimark Keller
Bryn Mawr

The signature violet Bonwit Teller hatboxes I have are tangible reminders of shopping occasions with my mother, Inez Quinn. At times, these were all-day affairs, starting with selecting clothes, stopping for lunch in the store's dining room and finishing up in the shoe/accessory department. Once home, we'd give an impromptu fashion show in the living room. Observing her discerning eye for quality and genteel nature in sales negotiations made shopping an art. My dad's endearing comment, "champagne taste, beer pocketbook" was a tribute to her style.

Peg Romano
Lumberton