Every once in a while the world slows down just long enough to acknowledge in admiration the influence of our mommies. I am no exception.Dear Mom,
As I sit here at the end of another frenzied day, I am filled with relief as I take a deep breath and think about you. You have always made me feel that way. Calm, composed, still. I honestly believe that any calmness I have or can muster comes from you in some way – whether through genes or maybe just in hearing your voice or perhaps just subconsciously following your example. Either way, it is clear to me that my foundation has firmly been established upon your rock.
Most people don’t know our story, at least not all the sorted details. They probably don’t know how much you held me as a baby. I guess you’ve never even told me that, except I know you did. They probably don’t know that when I was in kindergarten you made an amazing princess dress, which seemed like magic to me considering you had absolutely no resources to do it. To this day, I still don’t know where you got the fabric or the glitter to make it all come together. I really thought you were a fairy godmother that halloween.
They probably don’t know that Tuesday will forever be my favorite day of the week because of tap dance lessons, stopping by the drug store for a soda afterward, and then curling up on the couch together to watch Laverne & Shirley.
Or that hand decorated horseshoe rainbow birthday cakes and barbie poofy dress cakes made me feel so unbelievably important and special.
Or that listening to the Thompson Twins over and over and over again on the drive to Utah was probably not first on your list of music choices. Or that listening to Barbara Streisand was first on your list but never actually realized.
They probably don’t know that it hurt my feelings a little when you laughed at me when I fell in the pond at Sun Valley but then comforted me afterward, planting in me the memory of what it feels like to be loved unconditionally, no matter how embarrassing you are.
Or that you provided me with my very own bedroom, with purple shag carpet and purple walls, and let me wallpaper with images of strange looking dudes with mohawks and make-up. Although I didn’t realize that you didn’t intentionally make the room purple and that it was just the way it came, I figured it was just your mommy magic at work again.
They probably don’t know how much it meant to me when you knitted my first grade teacher some booties for her baby. You sent them to school with me, in a brown paper sack, folded neatly. That teacher was so important to me and you knew her departure was breaking my heart and provided me with a way to share my feelings. That was my first lesson in how to demonstrate appreciation. It made me feel so good to give her something on her last day. I remember feeling so satisfied and grateful for those sweet little booties.
A few other thoughts to ponder (courtesy of you): All-you-can-eat-peel-and-eat-shrimp casino buffet birthday dinners, the red and white checkered Raggedy Ann blanket, late late late night (early morning) pick-ups in strange places that I shouldn’t have been but knew I could call you anyway, road trips, the one and only science fair submission: “I want to make rock candy so I can eat it afterward!”, artichoke art, the star-spangled banana seat bike, the Grease record, mission letters and care packages….the list goes on and on.
You now have a daughter reaching 40 – it’s a scary time for both of us. Even though we don’t talk everyday anymore, you remain at the forefront. It may not feel that way sometimes but I hope you know that you are with me wherever I go. You are at my core and I will always struggle with how to repay or thank you for all you have done for and given me.
I love you oodles and oodles, bunches and bunches, oceans and oceans.
Love,
Daughter
Or that hand decorated horseshoe rainbow birthday cakes and barbie poofy dress cakes made me feel so unbelievably important and special.
Or that listening to the Thompson Twins over and over and over again on the drive to Utah was probably not first on your list of music choices. Or that listening to Barbara Streisand was first on your list but never actually realized.
They probably don’t know that it hurt my feelings a little when you laughed at me when I fell in the pond at Sun Valley but then comforted me afterward, planting in me the memory of what it feels like to be loved unconditionally, no matter how embarrassing you are.
Or that you provided me with my very own bedroom, with purple shag carpet and purple walls, and let me wallpaper with images of strange looking dudes with mohawks and make-up. Although I didn’t realize that you didn’t intentionally make the room purple and that it was just the way it came, I figured it was just your mommy magic at work again.
They probably don’t know how much it meant to me when you knitted my first grade teacher some booties for her baby. You sent them to school with me, in a brown paper sack, folded neatly. That teacher was so important to me and you knew her departure was breaking my heart and provided me with a way to share my feelings. That was my first lesson in how to demonstrate appreciation. It made me feel so good to give her something on her last day. I remember feeling so satisfied and grateful for those sweet little booties.
A few other thoughts to ponder (courtesy of you): All-you-can-eat-peel-and-eat-shrimp casino buffet birthday dinners, the red and white checkered Raggedy Ann blanket, late late late night (early morning) pick-ups in strange places that I shouldn’t have been but knew I could call you anyway, road trips, the one and only science fair submission: “I want to make rock candy so I can eat it afterward!”, artichoke art, the star-spangled banana seat bike, the Grease record, mission letters and care packages….the list goes on and on.
You now have a daughter reaching 40 – it’s a scary time for both of us. Even though we don’t talk everyday anymore, you remain at the forefront. It may not feel that way sometimes but I hope you know that you are with me wherever I go. You are at my core and I will always struggle with how to repay or thank you for all you have done for and given me.
I love you oodles and oodles, bunches and bunches, oceans and oceans.
Love,
Daughter
