Mrs H.
When I moved from Colorado to Virginia at age 11, I made 2 best friends in my neighborhood. Annie lived in the townhouse next door, and Denise was just a few townhouses down. Little did I know at the ripe ol' age of eleven, that these girls would become a constant in my life.
Fast forward 30 years, and we are still the best of friends. We have grown up together, have done stupid high school stunts together, and shared life's many ups and downs. If anyone has my back, it will always be Anne and Denise.
Growing up, Annie's mom was the neighborhood watch. She wasn't part of the neighborhood watch, she WAS the neighborhood watch. Nothing and no one could come in or out of our little culdesac without Mrs. Harrington noting it.
When we were young, it was comforting.
When we were teens, it was ominous.
You didn't have to wonder, you KNEW Mother Harrington was watching.
The wonderful thing was, Mother H didn't rat you out. She would wait until the time was right, invite you in for a cup of tea, and casually mention that she noticed you got home past curfew.
Three nights in a row.
And then offer you a piece of toast to wash down your tea.
And that was that.
(or so you hoped.)
She cared about all the girls in the neighborhood, and Anne didn't have to be home to be invited in. I loved it that you got to sit and read the paper at the kitchen table like a grown up, and I that she had the coolest teas and tea pots. I got my love for a giant steaming hot mug of tea from my times at the Harrington house. Sitting at her table you felt dignified, and even slightly British in a strange way.
Over the years,we have fondly dubbed our own neighborhood watchings as, "Being Mrs. Harrington."
She was snarky and straight forward, would tell it like it was,and while she wasn't the huggy/touchy type it was always clear that she loved us. And because she loved us, she was watching...
...That we knew for sure.
Yesterday, without any fanfare, (which was her way) Mrs. Harrington slipped away from this life.
And while miles separate Denise, Annie and I, we are all hurting. For our dearest Anne who lost her mother, for the kids who lost their grandmother,
and selfishly for us...
For we lost a mother too.
Mother Harrington, you will be greatly missed.
Fast forward 30 years, and we are still the best of friends. We have grown up together, have done stupid high school stunts together, and shared life's many ups and downs. If anyone has my back, it will always be Anne and Denise.
Growing up, Annie's mom was the neighborhood watch. She wasn't part of the neighborhood watch, she WAS the neighborhood watch. Nothing and no one could come in or out of our little culdesac without Mrs. Harrington noting it.
When we were young, it was comforting.
When we were teens, it was ominous.
You didn't have to wonder, you KNEW Mother Harrington was watching.
The wonderful thing was, Mother H didn't rat you out. She would wait until the time was right, invite you in for a cup of tea, and casually mention that she noticed you got home past curfew.
Three nights in a row.
And then offer you a piece of toast to wash down your tea.
And that was that.
(or so you hoped.)
She cared about all the girls in the neighborhood, and Anne didn't have to be home to be invited in. I loved it that you got to sit and read the paper at the kitchen table like a grown up, and I that she had the coolest teas and tea pots. I got my love for a giant steaming hot mug of tea from my times at the Harrington house. Sitting at her table you felt dignified, and even slightly British in a strange way.
Over the years,we have fondly dubbed our own neighborhood watchings as, "Being Mrs. Harrington."
She was snarky and straight forward, would tell it like it was,and while she wasn't the huggy/touchy type it was always clear that she loved us. And because she loved us, she was watching...
...That we knew for sure.
Yesterday, without any fanfare, (which was her way) Mrs. Harrington slipped away from this life.
And while miles separate Denise, Annie and I, we are all hurting. For our dearest Anne who lost her mother, for the kids who lost their grandmother,
and selfishly for us...
For we lost a mother too.
Mother Harrington, you will be greatly missed.
Thank you sweetie. I love you!
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