Typing Fingers Making Music

My childhood was alive with the sound of my Mom's typewriter.  She can type like nobody's business and used her talent to be gainfully employed, to type my step-dad's seminary papers, to help each of her girls turn in typo free essays.
I can remember begging to be allowed to type, and when I sat down at the little typewriter desk, it was a long painful process to write a few sentences.  My Mom didn't have to look at the keys, and peck out her ideas.  Her fingers flew over the keys as her eyes focused on the handwritten rough drafts.  It was a super awesome talent, and I longed to have it for my own.
Tonight as I sat at our computer, my fingers know where to move to find each key to spell out my daughter's carefully worded essay.  I am thankful for my 9th grade keyboarding class.  But I am even more thankful for my Mom's inspiration!
Now if I can only piece out what the line that looks like "phone fiddler and pasty skinned address" really is.  My family does not have the best handwriting, but by golly, both of my kids can type!


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