A letter to my mother

Dear Mama,

“It’s just another day,” you said, just like you say about every holiday. “No cards. They just end up in the trash can.”

I honored your request. Partly because it was your request and you’re my mother and partly because Emma’s screams were escalating from her “I’m a little bothered” one to the one that sounds like an angry cat when I was in the store trying to figure out if Hallmark had said what I wanted to say any better than I could say it myself.

As it turns out, they hadn’t.

Or, and this is more likely, I didn’t get there soon enough to get the card that said what I wanted to say. I mean, I am quite the procrastinator after all. A trait of mine that I know has always made you a little crazy but which I suspect in some small way or another I learned from you. After all, we do work best under pressure, right? ::wink wink::

Today, and every day, I want to tell you how thankful I am for you.

For the sacrifices you made when I was growing up.

For the long hours you worked doing thankless tasks.

For listening with love in your heart.

For the unwavering support you always gave me even if you disagreed with my decisions.

For trusting that I would figure it out eventually and would ask for your advice if I needed it.

For teaching me to stand up for myself, always respectfully, with the power of my convictions, and you, behind me.

For showing me strength. And weakness.

For being my biggest fan.

Joshua and Emma have made me a mother, but you taught me how to be one through the example you set for me.

I love you, Mama.

Me