Day 14: My earliest memory...

My earliest memory is one that took place SO early in my life, that some might swear it's not possible, that I remember it.
When I was two years old, my mother and biological father divorced (No, I don't remember THAT!). That divorce left my mother, who up until then, had pretty much been a stay-at-home mother of two. She had started waitressing at the local truck stop (you may have heard of it on the Route 66 shows--the Diamond's Restaurant & Inn in Gray Summit, off of old '66. It no longer exists), part-time; when she and my father split up, it left her alone, with a 6 year-old and a 2 year-old, and only a waitressing gig to support us all.
I won't go into details on the child support (and lack thereof). I will say that my mother asked for a PALTRY amount, and in spite of that, my father's wages (at Chrysler) had to be garnished.
We weren't even worth that, to him.
(Insert sad violin. Okay, stop. Really.)
Anyways, my mother worked hard...and my earliest memory recalls a time I was in a high chair at that Diamond's Inn restaurant. I remember the glass case full of souveniers; I remember the cigarette smoke (because back then, you could smoke anywhere in a restaurant); and I actually remember the little ash trays and the yellow waitressing outfits (think Alice, for those of you who are old enough to remember). I don't remember anything else about the place; just that.
It wasn't the first time that my mother had to take one or both of us to work with her. My mom was eventually blessed with a fantastic job with the post office. I can remember sleeping in mail bins, and learning how to sort mail at a very young age (they do NOT let anyone do that, now--we're talking 30 years ago!). The smell of a post office still makes me smile..
But not the smell of cigarettes...
Or greasy diners....
My earliest memory forged an attitude that my mother has passed down to me, and that I am proud to have: You do what you have to, for your family. You work. You take care of your family, no matter what. My mother worked her rear end off for us. Now that I'm a parent, I see a tiny sliver of the sacrifices she made, and I have the most amplified respect for her--I never understood, until now. My mother is an incredible woman, and I'm so proud of her...