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.
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