The last post I wrote was a little, shall we say, sad. I was feeling frustrated and flummoxed and I’m working on it. The great news is though that today I have something lovely to write about, My Momma.
Yes, My Momma. Do you like how I used two capital M’s? She’s important business and important business always deserves to stand out.
Yesterday My Momma turned sixty-five. That’ something. I know there are some folks who believe age is just a number and birthdays are just another day but not me. You earn that stuff. Each number that ticks by is a reminder of the things you’ve accomplished and the life you’re living. It’s cause for celebration and joy and gratitude. And if there was ever a word I would use when speaking about My Momma, it would be gratitude.
I love her.
I love her deep down in my bones where she wraps around my insides and keeps me warm. She is a part of my heart and my soul and my spirit. We are very alike in some ways and in others are very different. This has caused us to bump heads over the years and I absolutely want to pull my hair out when I feel we’re not seeing eye to eye but that’s human. We are beautifully human.
My Mom, if she had five dollars left to her name and I needed twelve, would empty her pockets and then sell her shoes for more.
My Mom, if I was ever afraid to ask for something, would step forward and ask on my behalf reminding me of my worth.
My Mom, if I was struggling through something difficult would stand by my side with a flashlight while I tried to find my footing.
Here’s the thing, I don’t think my Mom knows how special she is. I’m not sure she understands how much I love her smile or how safe I feel when I’m with her. I don’t know if she knows how much what she did for me when I was sick a few years back meant. The long car rides, the visits, the checking in, the research, the doctor’s appointments, the follow up, the discussions she had with my Dad to see what else they could do. It was as if she was willing me to find my way and I did … because she was with me.
My Mom is one of the loveliest people I know. She is warm and kind. She has a generous heart. She is my Valentine every year. She is one of my biggest fans, a fierce protector and a loyal friend. If I have done anything right in my life, it has been because of, well a few things, but one of the most consistent and supportive being My Mom.
You know I have a desk drawer full of cards she has sent to me over the years whether it be for a holiday or a birthday and I save them all because I know that she takes great care in picking each one out. I hope she knows how special that is and how much I appreciate each one. I hope she also knows how grateful I am to know what it feels like to always have someone in my corner….and at the local Hallmark :).
Life can be bumpy Momma and we don’t always end up where we think we should be. It’s hard taking a long, hard look at our lives and figuring out where we could have made different choices. Nobody is perfect as they say and hindsight is always fifty-fifty. I know though, without a doubt, that I belong wherever you are and I hope you feel the same about me. And I also hope that you count having a daughter who loves you like I do as an enormous success because I’m fabulous. No, really I am, and that I owe in part to you (some of it’s Dad and Vicki and Patrick and Scott and peanut butter and cheese whiz fries with hot sauce and ketchup from the Winchester swim club from way back when… and probably TJ Maxx but mostly, you… and TJ Maxx). :)
Happiest of Birthdays to you Sunshine. I love you beyond the moon and back Mom…always.
PS. At times when My Momma seemed to get repetitive in the written piece above, I simply used My Mom. Sometimes My Momma reminds me of Throw Momma From the Train and I’m not sure that’s the right correlation to make for a birthday. I also don’t look a thing like Owen…well, until I put on glasses. Sigh.