Did your mother have any unfulfilled dreams or regrets that you were aware of?

Mom never talked about any aspirations, dreams, or regrets, at least not that I can recall. I think she wanted to be an aristocrat. Her family definitely had the money, but being farmers, they weren't refined in their ways. When my siblings and I were growing up, we were always pressed and pleated just so, every hair in place and the corners of our mouths wiped clean for presentation. We were taught to be seen and not heard, unless we were asked to display our charming manners or brilliant intellects. We were groomed as dolls and performers. Our life was a perpetual tea party for the public eye, even though at home was quite a different picture.

Mom liked being a trophy, I think. She always wanted others to be impressed by her abilities and her life. As the wife of a Baptist pastor, she would greet the members of the congregation with beaming face and perfect grace. She idolized Jackie Onassis in those days. She organized potlucks and parties that would make the church ladies "ooh" and "ah" over her imaginative decorations and her perfect presentation. She would have fit in beautifully, had we lived in Stepford.

As I mentioned before, we children were her accessories. My twin sisters were dressed and treated alike in every way, much to their resentment. My brothers raised as perfect masculine figures. They were given every benefit of being raised in a patriarchal home. By the time I was old enough for school, my siblings were already moved out of the house and on their own, so I was left as the remaining pet for my mother to preen. I was dressed in white button-down blouses with wool plaid skirts or, for church  and parties, I had a large collection of frilly pink and white dresses, each with its own matching pair of bloomers. For special occasions, There were at least one or two princess-like gowns in my closet, but these only came out for pictures, Christmas, weddings, and funerals. Each of these outfits were coordinated with a pair of white tights and either white or black patent leather shoes, depending on the season.

When Dad moved out, mom was a mess. She had lost the arm she clung to. She still maintained the act, despite the fact she was no longer the trophy. Days dragged on, one after the other, and she slowly became more and more depressed. Many times, she wouldn't even bother getting out of bed. She was a poor housekeeper under the best of circumstances, the only exception being when company was expected and on those days every corner of the house was made to sparkle, but during her depression, she stopped cleaning altogether and she hoarded things like newspapers and magazine articles in knee-high piles on the floor.

But I digress.

Mom never fulfilled her dream of being a storybook princess and I think she regrets not having the wherewithal to have stolen her own portion of the family fortune, such as her brother and sister did.

But that's a story for another day.