Tuesday, February 24, 2015
The reluctant matriarch
It was a sad day when I have become the matriarch of the family. The day my mother died and the baton was handed down to me. Me! How can I be the matriarch? I’m the one who was always afraid of the dark. I don’t know how to make bread from scratch so don’t call me for recipes. I can’t tell you the names of all our long lost relatives. I am not the history keeper. I can't name plants or flowers and haven't got a clue how to grow a garden. I don’t know any funny stories about days gone by. I never said I wanted to be the matriarch that was my mother’s job. I didn’t sign-up for this job I inherited it. It actually makes me a little nervous. I’m not sure I can live up to the expectations of those younger than myself. But wait, what am I worried about…there is no one to ask me questions about the “olden days”. I am not even a grandmother. Now I’m just plain sad!