Its Strange How I Remember Mom

The word 'HOBO,'  a holdover from the depression, has largely been lost from the language and is rarely heard. My son has been using it lately, something from school.  In doing so I was immediately drawn to a memory of my mother. Unusual, as I block almost all of childhood.  After school one day mother had nothing for us to eat.  She explained that a 'hobo' had come to the back door earlier begging for food.  She cooked the few eggs we had, and gave him plain toast and tea, everything in the house.  Now this was some unusual event as we never had a hobo, before or after, and we were clearly the poorest people in the entire town. When we pointed this out, she agreed, admitting that she was convinced it was Christ. Now, 60 years later, I think she was right. That's me ma.