I would like to think that my mom passed many of her talents on to me. If she did, it was only after years of teaching, support and encouragement. In the Hummingbird kitchen and on the farm, Mom was the senior advisor, the leaning post, the rock of Gibraltar, as she stirred soap to trace, wrapped raffia bows, or trimmed bars.

In the difficult moments, she'd take me back in time by whispering, "You can do it," in my ear as she did so many other times when I was a child. She's right, I can do it, but I will always miss her cheering me on.