Sunday, May 10, 2015
Over the past 24 years I've screamed at her. I've blatantly defied her. I've talked back. I've made messes in her beautiful home. I've destroyed her invaluable antique dining table with nail polish remover, even when she asks me several times to lay out a towel first. I never lay out the towel.
I cry and she listens. I'm hungry and she feeds me. I'm lost and she helps me find my way. When there are no solutions, she offers something even better--her unconditional love and support.
I take, and I take, and I take. And she just gives, and she gives, and she gives.
This pattern is baffling, almost frustratingly so, since I'll never stop needing her. Because in my weakest moments when I've stopped loving myself; when I've given up on myself; when I've stopped rooting for myself, my mother is always there to tell me she loves me, to tell me she's proud, to tell me that I am enough.
And with that, I continually have the strength to try again.
Everything I ever hope to accomplish in this life and in the life to come is made possible because of this woman, and for that, I am incredibly grateful.
Love you, mama.