Mother’s Day 2025. Cards and packages of chocolates and fudge and jelly beans and penuche.  Her favorites all.  In the end, though, all she really wanted was a long drive down memory lane.  And I served as her driver, avoiding the freeway, taking the back roads, taking in the sun and big sky, looking at everything.  Look at the open fields.  There’s a farm—look at the hay.  Look at the horses.  Look at the old houses, look at the big old trees—they’re Chinese elms.  Look at that pink car: how cute!  Look at the cemetery (almost whispered).  Look at the canal, so full of water.  Look! Valley Junior High School—that’s where I went to school—I would take the bus every day.  Look, there’s 4200 West—that was my street.  Look, there’s Winder Dairy, and that used to be Brock’s farm.  Oh, look, there’s my grandparents’ house.  I loved going there.  My grandmother kept bottled fruit in her cold storage.  Oh, thank you for bringing me here.  Look, there is the church I went to as a girl; I invited your dad to come with me sometimes.  Wow, look at the size of that huge truck!  Look: cows!  Oh my goodness!  Thank you, Roger, for such a nice outing.

(Photo source: Alamy.  Used under fair use.)