Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

This weekend we'll be celebrating my Mom's 60th birthday. In honor of this milestone, I'd like to share a few thoughts on my mom.

Mom, when I was little, I admired your curly hair. Years later, I figured out it was a perm. This despite the fact that I watched you having it done in the hair salon.

But while your curly hair may have been achieved artificially, the other qualities I admire about you come naturally.

I admire your storytelling ability. You tell great stories, Mom. And some of them are even true.

While it used to bother me when you'd share stories about our family, it no longer does. After all, now you can't complain when I write about you.

I admire your kindness and your compassion. I used to run home to you whenever I had a boo-boo. This isn't surprising. But you were the only mom that other kids ran to, as well. Thanks for being a cool mom and making me cool by association.

I admire your kindness for all living creatures. To this day, I prefer to capture and release a wasp rather than killing it.

Animals know where to go when they need some tender loving care, and so I share you with not just my brother and sister, but with cats and dogs who know you as Mommy, too.

I admire your conviction that violence is never okay. When we had toy guns, you made them no fun by insisting we weren't allowed to aim them at people. You eventually weaned us off water pistols and onto water bottles and hoses for our summer fun.

I admire your love of music. When you played piano, I joined in, banging on the high notes. Come to think of it, I also admire your patience.

I admire your ability to see things no one else can see. By this I don't just mean your ghost stories. All those years when bullies picked on me, you insisted I was beautiful. You believed it so intensely you made me believe it myself.

I admire your belief in always being prepared. On family vacations, we loaded up your Volvo station wagon with everything we could possibly need: rain gear, jackets, bathing suits, first aid kids, pots and pans! To this day, I keep extra shoes in my truck, just in case.

I admire your love of trying new things. You made sure we tried every variety of vegetable, whether we wanted to or not. When my brother refused to eat squash, you experimented with ways to slip it into other dishes. He always knew.

I admire your ability to see humor in daily life. Your first reaction to, say, stubbing your toe (after jumping around a bit), is to turn it into a funny story. Some people would let this ruin their day. You helped me see that when you laugh it off, your pain disappears.

In my life, I've learned a lot from you. And not just from listening to your record collection, borrowing your clothes, or your car, or commandeering your piano. When I think about it, your choice of piano music says it all. From you I learned that you can climb every mountain, that love is all you need, that everything is beautiful and that you can teach the world to sing.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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