A Gift of Caring

My mother's parents were born in Germany,lace inserts. The picture's corners were brittled
emigrating to America while still young. They ran around and spots appeared in the faded
grocery store in New Jersey, weathering thebackground. I secreted the portrait out of the
depression, two world wars and six children. Myhouse to the studio where I worked and ordered
mother, June, was the next to last, having onethe most expensive miniature offered. It was to
older sister and three older brothers. Her youngerbe completely restored and printed on white
brother, Eddie, was a millstone around her neck.celluloid. The face and hands would be hand
Her older brothers shooed her away constantly,colored with transparent oils and the background
calling her bulgy eyes and telling her to take aand dress painted with tiny brushes by an artist.
bath. Her older sister Louise seemed to get theWhen it arrived from the artist's studio, I framed
nice clothes, attention from the boys and had littleit in a beautiful gold plated lace-edged frame with
time for her younger sister. Her Papa workeda domed glass. Though measuring only three and
fourteen hours a day in the store, and seemed toone half inches by four and one half inches, every
June a stern taskmaster, to be feared instead ofdetail of her features could be seen clearly, even
loved.the color of her eyes. She looked just like my
Her mother was kind and loving whomother at that age.
unfortunately suffered from epileptic seizures.On mom's birthday, January seventh, I placed the
Once a month they would find her on the floor,wrapped box on the kitchen table. All through
shaking all over or unconscious. She died whensupper, she couldn't take her eyes off that little
June was seven, hitting her head on a coal stovebox. Her guesses ranged from jewelry to playing
in the kitchen. June cried for a week.cards, never coming close to the truth. Finally, she
Years later, I came across a small portrait ofopened the box and just stared. Her big gray
mom's mother. A studio picture taken in 1913, sheeyes got wet and shiny. A squeaky "Thank you"
had a beautiful face, her hair done up in a braidedwas all she could manage. No jewelry, no matter
top knot held with a pearl comb. The black satinhow expensive, could mean more to her than her
dress looked expensive with pearl buttons andmother's picture.